II  B  R.ARY 

OF  THL 
UN  IVER.SITY 

or  ILLINOIS 


S4-5S94 


- 


tAA 


• 


THE 


WANDERING    JEW. 


HV 


EUGENE  SUE, 

AUTHOR  OF    "  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  PARIS,"  KTC.  KTC. 


ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FOUR  ENGRAVINGS, 

DRAWN  ON  WOOD  BY  M.  VALENTIN, 

\M>   KXECl'TKI)   BY  THE  MOST  EMINENT  ENGLISH  ENGRAVERS,   UNDER  THE 
SUPERINTENDENCE  OF 

MB.  CHARLES  HEATH. 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 
CHAPMAN  AND  HALL,  186  STRAND. 


MDCCCXLVI. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  BY  GEORGE  BARCLAY,  CASTLE  STREET, 
LEICESTER  SQUARE. 


LIST  OF  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Morok's  Apartment. 
J7  Morok. 
«  The  Travellers. 
J   Remembrances. 

Morok  and  Goliath. 
^   Dagobert  washing. 

Hose  and  Blanche. 

The  Dream. 

The  Surprise. 

Djalma  protecting  General  Simon. 

Goliath  at  the  Window. 

The  Menagerie. 
S  The  Loss  discovered. 
^  The  Burgomaster. 
<*>  The  Escape. 
^  Rodin. 

"5  Pere  d'Aigrigny. 
•»  The  Tattooing. 
.*  Mahal  and  Djalma. 
r  M.  Joshua  Van  Dael. 
4  The  Strangler  Chiefs. 
Tj  Djalma  and  the  Stranglers. 
V  Monsieur  and  Madame  Dupont. 

0  The  Storm. 

\  The  Shipwreck, 
bv  The  Orphans  discovered. 

1  Francoise  Baudoin. 
t>sA.gricola  returning  Lutine. 
>J  The  Flower. 

o>  Agricola  reading  the  L^ter. 
•^  Dagobert  and  Agricola. 

r  The  Meeting  of  Agricola  and  Gabriel. 

°XJeorgette  and  Lutine. 


Adrienne's  Toilet-chamber. 

The  Toilet  of  Adrienne. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier. 

The  Letter. 

The  Espionage. 

The  Enemies  of  Adrienne. 

Treachery. 

Adrienne  and  her  Aunt. 

A  False  Friend. 

The  Captive. 

The  Visit. 

The  Grief  of  Francoise. 

The  Letter. 

The  Confessional. 

The  Visit  of  Madame  Baudoin. 

The  Arrest. 

The  Convent. 

The  Threat. 

The  Masquerading. 

The  Contrast. 

Florine  and  La  Mayeux. 

La  Mayeux  discovering  Adrienne. 

The  Interview.  • 

The  Family  Meeting. 

Escalade  and  Forcible  Entry. 

The  Two  Brothers  of  the  Good  Work. 

Samuel  and  Bathsheba. 

The  Heir. 

The  13th  of  February  — the  Red 

Chamber. 

The  Will  disputed. 
The  First  Last  and  the  Last  First. 
Mother  Arsine  and  Rose  Pompon. 


LIST  OF  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  Unexpected  Visit. 

The  Accuser. 

Adrienne's  Release. 

The  Seizure. 

Pierre  Simon,  due  de  Ligny. 

Waking  Dreams. 

Adrienne  and  Djalma. 

La  Mayeux's  Apartment. 

Angele  and  Agricola. 

Marechal  Simon  and  his  Father. 

Rodin  exposing  M.  de  Blassac. 

The  Battle. 

The  Confession. 

Morok  preparing  for  the  Theatre. 

Djalma  and  Rose  Pompon. 

The  Collation. 

Rodin  attacked  by  Cholera. 

The  Singular  Contest. 

Mirth  and  Misery. 

The  Murderers. 


The  Snare. 

The  Torture. 

Suicide. 

Adrienne  rescuing  La  Mayeux. 

The  Rivals. 

Adrienne  and  Djalma. 

The  Secret  Closet. 

The  Confession. 

Jocrisse  and  Dagobert. 

Reveries  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

Confidence  restored. 

The  Dismissal. 

The  Contribution. 

The  Death  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

Love  and  Hatred. 

Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  and 

Nini-Moulin. 
The  Last  Embrace. 
The  Duel. 
The  Prospect  of  Happiness. 


CONTENTS 


THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


PROLOGUE.— The  Two  Worlds I 

PABT  I. — THE  INN  OF  TUK  WHITE  FALCON. 

Chap.      I. — Morok    4 

H.— The  Travellers    9 

III.— The  Arrival 17 

IV. — Morok  and  Dagobert 22 

V. — Rose  and  Blanche 8 

VI.— Mutual  Confidence 37 

VII.— The  Traveller 43 

VIII. — Fragments  of  General  Simon's  Journal   51 

IX.— The  Cages    58 

X.— The  Surprise   64 

XI. — Jovial  and  La  Mort   69 

XII.— The  Burgomaster    75 

Xm.— The  Investigation   81 

XTV.— The  Result 89 

PABT  II. — THE  STREET  OF  THE  MILIEU-DES-UBSINS. 

XV.— The  Informations  , .  95 

XVI.— Orders 102 

XVII.— Epilogue 112 

PABT  III. — THE  STBANGLEBS. 

XVni.— The  Ajoupa  118 

XIX.— The  Tattooing 122 

XX.-— The  Smuggler 126 

XXI.— M.  Joshua  Van  Dael     131 

XXIL— The  Ruins  of  Tchandi    186 

XXIIL— The  Ambuscade 142 

XXTV.— The  Chateau  de  Cardoville.— M.  Rodin 151 

XXV.— The  Tempest  163 

XXVL— The  Chateau  de  Cardoville.— The  Shipwrecked 168 

XXVII.— Departure  for  Paris    177 

XXVIU.— La  Rue  Brise-Miche.— Dagobert's  Wife 185 

XXIX.— The  Sister  of  the  Bacchante  Queen 190 

XXX.— Agricola  Baudoin    198 


IV  CONTENTS  OF  THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 

ftp 

Chap.  XXXI.— The  Return 207 

XXXII. — Agricola  and  La  Mayeux  215 

XXXm.— The  Morning  221 

XXXIV.— The  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier.— The  Pavilion    232 

XXXV.— Adrienne's  Toliet    237 

XXXVI.— The  Interview 247 

PABT  IV. — HOTEL  PE  SAINT-DIZIER. 

XXXVH.— A  Jesuitess  256 

XXXVIIL— The  Plot 262 

XXXIX.— The  Enemies  of  Adrienne 269 

XL.— The  Skirmish ' 275 

XLL— The  Revolt 279 

XLIL— The  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier 289 

XLni.— The  Snare    291 

XLIV.— A  False  Friend   299 

XL V.— The  Minister's  Residence   306 

XL VI.— The  Visit 315 

XL VTL— Presentiments ! 325 

XLVin.— The  Letter  331 

XLIX.— The  Confessional 340 

L. — Monsieur  and  Kill- Joy 350 

LI. — Appearances ., 354 

LH.— The  Convent    358 

LITE.— The  Influence  of  a  Confessor 368 

LIV.— The  Interrogatory 375 

PABT  V. — THE  QUEEN-BACCHANAL. 

LV. — The  Masquerading 380 

LVL— The  Contrast    388 

LVH.— The  Reveille-Matin   395 

LVm.— The  Adieux 403 

LIX.— The  Charity  of  Sainte-Maric.— Florine 409 

LX.— The  Abbess  Sainte-Perpetue     416 

LXL— The  Temptation 425 

LXH. — La  Mayeux  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville 432 

LXHI. — The  Rencounters 440 

LXIV.— The  Rendezvous 450 

LXV. — Discoveries   457 

LXVL— The  Penal  Code 464 

LXVII. — Escalade  and  Forcible  Entry 472 

LXVm.— The  Eve  of  an  Important  Day 481 

LXIX.— The  Strangler 487 


WANDERING  JEW. 


PROLOGUE. 


THE  TWO  WORLDS. 

THE  Arctic  Ocean  is  encircled  by  a  belt  of  eternal  ice,  the  desert 
boundaries  of  Siberia  and  of  Northern  America — the  extreme  limits  of 
the  two  worlds  are  separated  by  the  narrow  Straits  of  Behring. 

The  month  of  September  is  just  at  its  close. 

The  equinox  comes  in  with  darkness  and  the  northern  storms — 
night  will  soon  displace  one  of  the  short  and  dull  days  of  the  poles. 

The  sky,  of  a  dark  violet  colour,  is  feebly  lighted  by  a  sun  which 
is  without  heat,  whose  white  disc,  scarcely  seen  above  the  horizon, 
turns  pale  before  the  dazzling  brightness  of  the  snow  which  covers  and 
conceals  the  vast  steppes. 

To  the  north,  this  desert  is  bounded  by  a  coast  bristling  with  black 
and  gigantic  rocks.  At  the  foot  of  their  Titanic  piles  lies,  motionless, 
the  vast  ocean,  with  its  ice-bound  waves,  extended  chains  of  frozen 
mountains,  whose  blue-tinted  peaks  are  lost  from  view  in  a  mass  of 
snowy  vapour. 

To  the  east,  between  the  two  peaks  of  Cape  Oulikine,  the  eastern 
confine  of  Siberia,  there  is  visible  a  line  of  darkish  green,  whence 
slowly  creep  forth  numerous  white  and  glassy  icebergs. 

It  is  Behring's  Straits. 

Beyond  it,  and  towering  above  it,  are  the  vast  granitic  masses  of 
the  Cape  de  Galles,  the  extreme  point  of  North  America.  These 
desolate  latitudes  belong  no  more  to  the  habitable  world  ;  their  piercing 
and  fierce  cold  rends  the  very  stones,  cleaves  the  trees,  and  bursts  the 
ground,  which  groans  in  producing  the  germs  of  its  icy  herbage. 

No  human  being  would  seem  endued  with  power  to  dare  the  soli- 
tude of  these  regions  of  frost  and  tempest — of  famine  and  of  death. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  we  trace  steps  on  the  snow  which  covers  these 
1  B 


2  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

deserts,  these  last  boundaries  of  two  continents  divided  by  Behring's 
Straits. 

On  the  American  side  are  seen  foot-prints  which,  by  their  small- 
ness  and  lightness,  denote  a  woman's  presence. 

She  has  moved  in  the  direction  of  the  rocks,  from  whose  heights 
are  seen,  beyond  the  strait,  the  icy  steppes  of  Siberia. 

On  the  Siberian  side  footmarks,  larger  and  deeper,  denote  the  pre- 
sence of  a  man.  He,  too,  has  turned  towards  the  strait.  It  would 
seem,  that  this  man  and  this  woman,  thus  reaching,  from  opposite 
directions,  the  extremities  of  the  globe,  have  passed  to  see  each  other 
across  the  narrow  armlet  of  the  sea  which  separates  the  two  worlds. 

Still  more  strange  !  This  man  and  this  woman  have  crossed  these 
solitudes  during  a  fearful  tempest. 

Some  black  pines,  the  growth  of  centuries,  pointing  their  bent 
heads  in  different  directions  of  the  solitude,  like  crosses  in  a  church- 
yard, have  been  torn  up,  broken,  and  hurled  in  various  places  by  the 
storm. 

Through  the  raging  hurricane,  which  uproots  huge  trees,  which 
drives  before  it  the  mountains  of  ice  and  dashes  them  in  masses  against 
each  other  with  the  noise  of  thunder — through  this  awful  storm  these 
travellers  have  made  their  way. 

Yes,  they  have  made  their  way  without  deviating,  even  for  a  pace, 
from  the  straight  line  which  they  have  pursued,  as  might  be  seen  from 
their  equal,  regular,  and  well-defined  foot-track. 

Who  can  they  be,  these  two  beings,  who  march  onward  thus  calm 
and  resolved  in  the  midst  of  the  convulsions  and  throes  of  nature  ? 

Chance,  will,  or  fatality,  has  formed  beneath  the  iron-shod  shoe 
of  the  man  seven  projecting  nails  which  form  a  cross  : — 


And  every  where  he  leaves  this  trace. 

To  see  these  deep  imprints  in  the  hard  and  polished  ice,  one  could 
compare  it  to  a  sheet  of  marble  stamped  by  a  foot  of  iron. 

But  now  a  night  without  twilight  has  succeeded  to  day. 

Dark,  dark  night ! 

By  the  bright  refraction  of  the  sun  on  the  sea,  the  steppe  loses  its 
pure  whiteness  beneath  a  heavy  cupola  of  so  deep  a  blue,  that  it 
would  seem  black  ;  the  pale  stars  are  lost  in  the  depths  of  this  pal- 
pable obscure. 

Silence  reigns ! 

But  towards  the  Strait  of  Behring  a  feeble  glimmer  appears  in  the 
horizon.  At  first  it  is  softly  brilliant,  blue  as  the  light  which  precedes 
the  rising  of  the  moon ;  then  the  brightness  increases,  spreads,  and 
assumes  a  roseate  hue. 

In  the  other  quarters  of  the  heavens  the  darkness  waxes  deeper, 
and  the  whitened  extent  of  the  desert  is  hardly  distinguishable  from 
the  midnight  blackness  of  the  vaulted  firmament. 


THE  TWO  WORLDS.  O 

In  the  midst  of  this  obscurity  are  heard  strange,  confused  sounds. 

It  would  seem  like  the  flight  of  large  night-birds  as  they  flap  their 
wings  noisily  around  and  over  the  plain. 

But  no  cry  is  heard. 

This  fearful  silence  betokens  the  approach  of  one  of  those  imposing 
phenomena  which  strike  with  terror  all  animated  beings,  from  the 
mere  savage  to  the  most  timid.  An  aurora  borealis,  that  magnificent 
spectacle  so  frequent  in  the  polar  regions,  is  at  hand. 

In  the  horizon  there  appears  a  half-circle  of  dazzling  brightness. 
From  the  centre  of  this  shining  hemisphere  immense  columns  of  light 
jet  forth,  which,  rising  to  measureless  heights,  illumine  heaven,  earth, 
and  sea.  These  rays,  burning  like  fire,  glide  along  the  snows  of  the 
desert,  empurpling  the  blue  tops  of  the  mountains  of  ice,  and  tinting 
with  a  deepened  red  the  tall  black  rocks  of  the  two  continents. 

After  having  reached  the  fulness  of  magnificence,  the  aurora 
borealis  grows  gradually  pale,  and  its  clear  brightness  becomes  lost 
in  a  luminous  mist. 

At  this  moment,  owing  to  the  singular  effect  of  the  mirage,  fre- 
quent in  these  latitudes,  the  American  coast,  although  separated  from 
Siberia  by  the  interposition  of  an  arm  of  the  sea,  appears  suddenly  so 
near  that  it  would  seem  as  though  a  bridge  might  be  thrown  from  one 
world  to  the  other. 

At  this  instant,  in  the  midst  of  that  transparent  and  pale  blue 
vapour,  which  pervaded  the  two  worlds,  two  human  figures  were  dis- 
cernible. 

On  the  Siberian  Cape,  a  man  on  his  knees  extended  his  arms  to- 
wards America,  with  a  gesture  of  measureless  despair. 

On  the  American  promontory,  a  young  and  lovely  woman  responded 
to  this  attitude  of  hopeless  wretchedness  by  pointing  her  taper  finger 
towards  heaven. 

For  several  seconds  these  two  tall  figures  might  be  seen  pale  and 
shadowy  in  the  parting  rays  of  the  aurora  borealis. 

But  the  mist  thickened  gradually,  and  all  was  lost  in  the  growing 
darkness. 

Whence  came  these  two  beings  who  thus  met  in  the  polar  glaciers, 
at  the  very  extremities  of  the  earth  ? 

Who  were  these  two  creatures,  brought  together  for  one  instant  by 
a  deceptive  mirage,  but  who  seemed  separated  for  eternity  ? 


TllK  WANDEEINO  JEW. 


PART    I. 

THE  INN  OF  THE  WHITE  FALCON. 


CHAPTER  I. 


MOUOK. 

IT  vras  the  end  of  October  1831. 

Although  it  was  still  daylight,  a  brazen  lamp,  with  four  burners, 
cast  its  rays  on  the  bare  walls  of  a  large  garret,  whose  one  window  was 
carefully  closed  ;  a  ladder,  whose  steps  projected  beyond  the  mouth  of 
a  trap-door,  served  as  a  staircase. 

Here  and  there,  thrown  carelessly  on  the  floor,  were  iron  chains, 
collars  with  sharpened  points,  cavessons  with  teeth  like  saws,  muzzles 
studded  with  nails,  long  rods  of  steel  with  wooden  handles.  In  one 
corner  was  a  small  portable  stove,  such  as  plumbers  use  for  melting 
lead,  in  which  coals  were  placed  over  billets  of  wood,  which  a  spark 
would  in  a  moment  kindle  into  a  blaze. 

Not  far  from  these  instruments  of  sinister  appearance,  which  looked 
like  the  tools  of  an  executioner,  were  some  arms  of  antique  form.  A 
coat  of  mail,  with  rings  so  flexible,  so  light,  and  so  close,  that  it 
resembled  steel  tissue,  were  laid  on  a  chest,  beside  which  were  cuisses 
and  armlets  of  iron,  in  good  preservation,  and  furnished  with  leather 
straps.  Several  other  weapons,  and  particularly  two  long  pikes,  with 
triangular  blades  with  ashen  handles,  at  once  light  and  strong,  and  on 
•which  were  the  recent  stains  of  blood,  completed  this  panoply,  which 
had  the  modern  accompaniment  of  a  brace  of  Tyrolean  carbines  primed 
and  loaded. 

In  this  arsenal  of  deadly  weapons  and  barbarous  instruments  was 
strangely  mingled  a  collection  of  very  different  things, — small  glass 
cases,  enclosing  rosaries,  necklaces,  medals  of  AGNUS  DEI,  vessels  for 
holy  water,  images  of  saints  in  frames.  There  was,  also,  a  quantity 
of  the  pamphlets  printed  at  Fribourg,  on  coarse  blue  paper, — pamphlets 
in  which  were  recited  many  modern  miracles, — in  which  was  quoted  a 
letter,  signed  J.  C.,  addressed  to  a  "  faithful  disciple," — in  which,  too, 
there  were,  for  the  years  1831  and  1832,  predictions  of  a  most  fearful 
description  against  impious  and  revolutionary  France. 

One  of  those  paintings  on  canvass  which  showmen  place  in  front  of 
their  movable  booths,  hung  from  one  of  the  projecting  beams  of  the 
attic,  doubtless  that  the  picture  might  not  suffer  by  being  rolled  up 
too  long. 


^k. 


MOROK'S    APARTMENT. 


•,'iu:iii  :i:i  1  ll:;ll.     J'uiuarv  1.  l-i   . 


MonoK.  5 

This  canvass  bore  the  following  inscription  :  — 
"  THE  VERACIOUS  AND  MKMORABLK  CONVERSION  OF  IGNATIUS 
MOROK,  SURNAME!)  THE  PROPHET,  WHICH  HAPPENED  AT  FlUBOURG, 

IN  THE  YEAR  1828." 

This  painting,  whose  proportions  were  larger  than  life,  was  done  in 
most  vivid  colours,  and  the  inscription,  in  great  letters,  was  divided 
into  three  compartments,  which  displayed  three  important  features  in 
the  life  of  the  convert,  called  the  Prophet. 

In  the  first  was  seen  a  man  with  a  long  beard,  of  so  light  a  brown 
as  to  be  almost  white,  with  savage  aspect,  and  attired  in  the  skin  of  a 
reindeer,  such  as  is  worn  by  the  wild  populations  of  the  north  of 
Siberia ;  his  cap  was  of  black  fox's  skin,  ending  with  a  raven's  skull. 
His  looks  expressed  terror,  and  bending  in  his  sledge,  which,  drawn  by 
six  wild-looking  dogs,  glided  over  the  snow,  he  fled  from  the  pursuit 
of  a  pack  of  foxes,  wolves,  monstrous  bears,  &c.,  who  all,  with  open 
jaws,  and  armed  with  formidable  teeth,  seemed  capable  of  devouring 
a  hundred  times  over  man,  dogs,  and  sledge. 

Beneath  this  picture  was  :  — 

"  IN  1810  MOROK  WAS  AN  IDOLATER,  AND  FLED  BEFORE  WILD 

BEASTS." 

In  the  second  compartment,  MOROK,  attired  in  the  white  robe  of 
the  catechumen,  was  kneeling,  with  clasped  hands,  before  a  man 
dressed  in  a  long  black  gown,  with  a  white,  falling  collar.  In  one 
corner  of  the  picture  a  tall  angel,  with  a  repulsive  look,  held  a  trumpet 
in  one  hand,  and  a  flaming  sword  in  the  other,  whilst  the  following 
words  escaped  from  his  lips,  in  red  letters  on  a  black  ground :  — 

"  MOUOK  THE  IDOLATER  FLED  FROM  WILD  BEASTS;  THE  WILD 
BEASTS  WILL  NOW  FLEE  FROM  BEFORE  IGNATIUS  MOROK,  CONVERTED 
AND  BAPTISED  AT  FlUBOURG." 

In  the  third  compartment,  the  new  convert  stood  erect,  haughty, 
disdainful,  triumphant,  beneath  his  long  blue  robe  which  hung  in  folds  ; 
his  head  was  proudly  elevated,  he  had  his  left  hand  on  his  hip,  with  the 
right  hand  extended,  and  was  in  the  very  act  of  terrifying  a  crowd  of 
tigers,  hyenas,  bears,  lions,  &c.  &c.,  who  were  drawing  in  their  claws, 
hiding  their  teeth,  and  crouched  at  his  feet,  submissive  and  frightened. 
Beneath  the  latter  compartment  there  was  inscribed  as  a  moral  con- 
clusion :  — 

"  IGNATIUS  MOROK  is  CONVERTED;  THE  WILD  BEASTS  CROUCH 

AT  HIS  FEET." 

Not  far  from  these  tableaux  were  several  bundles  of  small  books, 
all  printed  at  Fribourg,  in  which  it  was  narrated  by  what  wonderful 
miracle  the  Idolater  Morok  was  converted,  had  suddenly  acquired  a 
supernatural  power,  as  was  testified  every  day  by  the  trial  to  which  the 
"  tamer  of  beasts  "  submitted  himself,  less  to  display  his  coufage  and 

boldness,  than  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  the  Lord. 

*  «  *  *  *  * 

From  the  open  trap  in  the  garret  there  arose  in  puffs  a  wild,  acrid, 
strong,  and  penetrating  smell. 

From  time  to  time  there  were  heard  the  sounds  of  heavy  and  low 
growls  ;  deep  breathings  were  followed  by  a  dull  noise,  like  that  made 
by  some  heavy  body  which  spreads  and  stretches  itself  along  the  floor. 

There  was  a  man  alone  in  this  chamber. 


6  THE  WANDERIKO  JEW. 

It  is  Morok,  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  gurnamed  the  «  Prophet." 
He  is  forty  years  of  age,  of  middling  height,  his  limbs  shrunken, 
and  his  form  singularly  attenuated.  A  long  pelisse,  blood-red  in 
colour,  and  trimmed  with  black  fur,  completely  covers  him  ;  his 
complexion,  naturally  fair,  is  bronzed  by  the  wandering  life  he  has  led 
from  his  infancy  ;  his  hair  of  that  yellow  and  dull  colour  peculiar  to 
certain  nations  of  the  polar  countries,  fell  straight  and  lank  down  his 
shoulders;  his  nose  is  thin,  sharp,  and  aquiline;  whilst  around  his 
prominent  cheek-bones  there  is  a  long  beard,  apparently  white,  but 
really  of  the  lightest  brown. 

The  physiognomy  of  this  man  was  the  more  singular  as  his  eyelids, 
which  were  very  wid'e  and  high,  displayed  his  fierce  eyeball  encircled 
by  a  white  ring.  His  look,  fixed  and  extraordinary,  exercised  a  won- 
derful and  actual  fascination  over  animals,  which,  however,  did  not 
prevent  the  Prophet  from  also  using  in  their  subjugation  the  terrible 
arsenal  of  weapons  which  lay  around  him. 

Seated  before  a  table,  he  had  just  opened  the  secret  drawer  of  a  small 
chest  filled  with  chaplets  of  beads  and  other  toys  used  by  the  devout. 
In  this  secret  drawer,  closed  by  a  peculiar  lock,  was  a  quantity  of 
sealed  envelopes,  addressed  only  with  a  number,  combined  with  a  letter 
of  the  alphabet.  The  Prophet  took  one  of  these  packets,  and,  putting 
it  in  the  pocket  of  his  pelisse,  shut  up  the  secret  drawer,  and  restored 
the  chest  to  the  small  table  whence  he  had  taken  it. 

The  scene  occurs  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  at  the  inn  of 
the  White  Falcon,  the  sole  hostelry  of  the  little  village  of  Mockern, 
near  Leipsic,  coming  from  the  north  towards  France.  After  a  few 
moments  a  hoarse  roar,  which  came  from  underground,  made  the  whole 
garret  tremble. 

"Judas,  be  silent!"  exclaimed  the  prophet,  in  a  menacing  tone, 
and  turning  quickly  towards  the  trap.  Another  deep  growl,  resembling 
distant  thunder,  was  then  heard. 

"  Silence,  Cain,  I  say  !"  cried  Morok,  rising. 
A  third  roar  of  surpassing  and  inexpressible  savageness  now  re- 
sounded through  the  place. 

"  Will  you  be  quiet,  La  Mort  ? "  cried  the  prophet,  hurrying 
towards  the  trap,  and  addressing  some  invisible  animal  who  bore  the 
gloomy  appellation  alluded  to.  Spite  of  the  habitual  authority  of  his 
voice,  spite  of  his  reiterated  menaces,  the  tamer  of  brutes  could  not 
obtain  silence,  on  the  contrary,  the  loud  barking  of  several  mastiffs 
was  now  added  to  the  roaring  of  the  beasts. 

Morok  seized  a  lance,  and  proceeded  to  mount  the  ladder,  when 
an  individual  was  seen  emerging  from  the  trap.  The  stranger  had  a 
sun-burnt,  healthy  countenance  ;  he  was  dressed  in  a  round,  broad- 
brimmed,  grey  hat,  a  short  vest,  and  long  loose  trousers  of  green 
cloth.  His  dusty  leather  gaiters  announced  his  having  come  some 
considerable  distance,  while,  suspended  over  his  shoulders  by  a  large 
strap,  he  bore  a  capacious  bag,  such  as  is  used  for  carrying  game. 

"The  devil  take  the  animals!"  cried  he,  descending  the  ladder, 
"  they  seem  to  have  forgotten  me  during  the  three  days  I  have  been 
atxcnt.  Why,  Judas  poked  out  his  paw  through  the  bars  of  his  cage, 
and  La  Mort  tore  about  like  a  mad  thing.  I  suppose  they  did  not 
know  me  again." 


MOROK. 

p. «. 


London:  Cliapir.an  anil  Hall.     January  I,  1-1  > 


MOROK.  7 

This  was  said  in  German,  to  which  Morok  replied  in  the  same 
language,  though  with  a  slightly  foreign  accent.  "  Good  or  bad 
news,  Karl  ?"  inquired  he  anxiously. 

"Oh,  good!" 

"  You  have  met  with  them,  then  ?" 

"  I  have.     Yesterday,  two  leagues  from  Wittemberg." 

"Heaven  be  praised!"  cried  Morok,  joining  his  hands  with  an 
expression  of  the  deepest  satisfaction. 

"  Why,  I  could  not  fail  overtaking  them ;  they  were  constrained 
to  travel  this  road  from  Russia  to  France,  and  it  was  a  thousand  to  one 
in  favour  of  coming  up  with  them  between  Wittemberg  and  Leipsic." 

"  And  the  description  ?" 

"  Answers  precisely  :  two  young  girls  dressed  in  mourning,  a 
white  horse,  an  old  man  with  long  moustachios,  wearing  a  blue 
foraging  cap  and  grey  military  coat,  followed  by  a  Siberian  dog." 

"  And  you  have  left  them  ?" 

"  About  a  league  from  hence.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  they  will 
be  here." 

"  And  in  this  very  inn,  there  being  none  other  in  the  village," 
rejoined  Morok,  with  a  pensive  air. 

"  And  night  fast  approaching,"  added  Karl. 

"  Did  you  enter  into  conversation  with  the  old  man  ?" 

"  Conversation  !  You  surely  are  not  thinking  when  you  ask  such 
a  question." 

"How?" 

"  No  ;  I  did  not  converse  with  him,  for  the  best  of  all  reasons." 

"  What  reason  can  you  assign  ?" 

"  The  utter  impossibility." 

"Impossible!     And  wherefore  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear.  I  first  followed  them  as  though  accidentally 
journeying  the  same  road  ;  then,  towards  nightfall  yester  evening,  I 
approached  them,  and  gave  them  the  salutation  common  with  foot- 
travellers,  saying,  '  Good  night,  and  a  pleasant  journey,  comrade;' 
the  only  answer  I  received  was  a  look  of  defiance,  while  with  the  end 
of  his  stick  the  sullen  individual  so  addressed  pointed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  road." 

"  He  is  a  Frenchman,  and  probably  did  not  understand  your 
German." 

"  Well,  I  heard  him  speak  it  as  well  as  you  or  I  when  he  arrived 
at  the  inn,  where  I  also  took  care  to  put  up,  for  I  heard  him  ask  for 
what  he  required  for  himself  and  party  in  perfectly  good  German." 

"  And  could  you  not  manage  to  draw  him  into  conversation  during 
the  evening?" 

"  I  tried  once,  but  was  so  roughly  repulsed  that,  for  fear  of 
incurring  any  risk,  I  would  not  venture  again.  I  tell  you,  between 
ourselves,  that  you  must  be  on  your  guard.  This  man  has  a  look  I 
don't  like  at  all,  and,  spite  of  his  grey  moustache  and  attenuated 
frame,  for  he  is  bony  as  a  skeleton,  he  looks  so  determined  and  so 
strong,  too,  that  I  scarcely  know  whether  he  or  my  comrade,  Goliath, 
would  have  the  best  were  they  to  engage  in  trial  of  strength.  I  know 
not  what  are  your  projects,  but  again,  I  say,  '  Take  care,  master,  take 
care!'" 


8  THE  WA5DERING  JEW. 

"  My  black  Java  panther  was  also  strong  and  disposed  for  mis- 
chief," added  Morok,  with  a  smile  at  once  sinister  and  disdainful. 

"La  Mort?  Yes,  and  he  remains  still  fierce  and  dangerous  as 
ever  to  all  but  yourself — to  you  certainly  he  is  gentle  enough." 

"  And  so  will  I  make  this  old  man,  spite  of  his  strength  and  rude 
boorishness." 

"  Nay,  nay,  master,  do  not  hope  it ;  you  are  as  clever  and  brave 
as  mortal  man  can  be ;  but,  trust  me,  not  even  you  can  change  the 
fierce  old  wolf  we  expect  here  into  a  lamb." 

"  Do  not  my  lion  Cain,  and  Judas  my  tiger,  crouch  before  me 
with  terror  and  submission?" 

"  True  ;  but  then  you  have  such  means  to  compel  them  as  , " 

"Because  I  have  FAITH  —  that  is  all  —  and  that  comprises  all," 
said  Morok,  imperiously  interrupting  Karl,  and  accompanying  the 
words  with  such  a  look  as  made  the  other  cast  down  his  eyes  and 
remain  mute.  "  Wherefore  should  not  the  man  who  by  divine  power 
has  been  permitted  to  prevail  over  the  wild  beast  of  the  forest,  have 
his  arm  also  strengthened  unto  victory  over  perverse  and  impious 
man  ?  "  added  the  prophet,  with  a  triumphant  and  inspired  voice. 

Whether  from  conviction  of  the  power  of  his  master,  or  his  own 
inability  to  enter  upon  a  controversy  on  so  delicate  a  subject,  Karl 
contented  himself  with  humbly  replying,  "  You  are  wiser  than  I  am, 
master,  and  what  you  do  is  well  done  and  must  succeed." 

"  Did  you  follow  this  old  man  and  the  young  girls  through  the 
whole  journey  ?  "  inquired  the  prophet,  after  a  momentary  silence. 

"  I  did,  but  cautiously  and  at  a  distance ;  only,  as  I  am  well 
acquainted  with  the  country,  I  sometimes  made  a  short  cut  through 
a  valley,  sometimes  over  a  mountain,  still  keeping  them  in  sight — 
the  last  look  I  got  at  them  was  from  behind  the  old  water-mill,  down 
there  where  the  tile-works  are.  As  they  were  travelling  on  at  a 
good  pace,  and  night  was  approaching  I  hastened  onwards  to  prepare 
for  their  arrival,  and  to  announce  to  you  a  piece  of  good  news  I 
thought  you  would  be  glad  to  hear." 

"  Most  glad,  most  rejoiced,"  replied  Morok  ;  "  neither  shall  your 
welcome  tidings  go  unrewarded,  for,  had  these  people  escaped"  me 

"   the   prophet  shook  with   an   universal   tremor,   and   ceased 

abruptly,  but  the  expression  of  his  countenance  and  the  tone  in  which 
he  spoke,  abundantly  declared  how  important  were  the  particulars  just 
communicated  to  him. 

"  Now  I  think  of  it,"  said  Karl,  "  perhaps  that  courier,  all  covered 
with  gold  lace,  who  came  here  all  the  way  from  St.  Petersburg 
without  once  stopping  on  the  road,  such  was  his  haste  to  find  you,  had 
possibly  something  to  do  in  the  same  important  affair  with  which  these 

people  are  mixed  up  :  perhaps  he " 

Morok  abruptly  interrupted  Karl,  by  inquiring, — 
"  And  who  informed  you  the  courier  from  Petersburg  was  in  any 
way  concerned  with  the  travellers  we  look  for  ?     You  are  wholly  mis- 
taken in  your  conjectures.     Henceforward  be  more  wise,  and  do  not 
affect  to  know  more  than  I  tell  you." 

"  Be  it  so,  master  ;  but  pardon  me  this  time  :  I  do  not  think  of  it 
again.  I  must  take  off'  my  game-bag  here,  and  go  and  look  after 
Goliath  to  help  me  feed  the  beasts  ;  it  must  be  about  their  supper- 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  9 

time,  if  not  already  past  the  usual  hour.  Do  you  think,  master,  that 
big  giant  of  ours  would  be  likely  to  forget  to  feed  the  animals  ?" 

"  Goliath  has  gone  out.  He  must  not  know  that  you  have  re- 
turned ;  neither  would  I  have  you  seen  by  our  expected  travellers ;  it 
might  excite  much  suspicion." 

"  Where  do  you  wish  me  to  go  to  ?" 

"  Go  down  to  the  small  outhouse  adjoining  the  stable,  and  there 
await  my  orders ;  for  I  may  possibly  have  to  send  you  off  this  very 
night  for  Leipsic." 

"  When  you  please  and  where  you  please ;  1  am  at  your  pleasure. 
I  have  still  some  provisions  remaining  in  my  wallet ;  so  1  may  as  well 
go  at  once  to  my  place,  and  be  eating  my  supper  and  taking  rest  at 
the  same  time  ;  so  that  I  can  start  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"  Begone,  then !" 

"  Master,  remember  what  I  have  said  to  you,  and  mistrust  that  old 
fellow  with  the  grey  moustache ;  I  believe  him  to  be  a  very  devil  for 
resolute  courage.  I  am  a  pretty  good  judge,  and  it  is  my  firm  belief 
he  would  prove  an  ugly  customer ;  mistrust  him  above  all  things,  I 
entreat  you." 

"  Be  satisfied,"  said  Morok  ;  "  you  know  it  is  my  habit  to  trust 
nobody." 

"  Adieu,  then,  master !  all  good  luck  attend  you." 

And  Karl,  slowly  ascending  the  ladder,  quitted  the  place  by  the 
same  means  he  had  entered. 

After  bestowing  a  friendly  adieu  on  his  servant,  the  prophet  con- 
tinued slowly  to  pace  the  floor,  wrapped  in  a  profound  meditation  ; 
then,  approaching  the  casket  with  the  false  lining,  which  contained  a 
quantity  of  papers,  he  selected  a  letter  of  considerable  length,  which 
he  perused  again  and  again  with  the  most  eager  attention,  occasionally 
going  to  the  closed  shutter  which  looked  out  on  the  court-yard  of  the 
small  inn,  and  listened  with  anxiety,  mingled  with  impatience,  for  the 
arrival  of  the  three  persons  whose  approach  had  just  been  announced  to 
him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  TRAVELLERS. 

WHILST  the  scene  we  have  described  was  passing  at  the  White 
Falcon,  at  Mockern,  the  three  persons  whom  Morok,  the  tamer  of 
wild  beasts,  awaited  so  anxiously,  were  quietly  progressing  through 
smiling  meadows,  bounded  on  one  side  by  a  river  whose  current  turned 
a  mill,  and  on  the  other  by  the  highroad  which  led  to  the  village  of 
Mockern,  which  was  about  a  league's  distance  on  the  top  of  a  tolerably 
high  hill. 

The  sky  was  beautifully  serene.  The  bubbling  of  the  river,  beaten 
by  the  mill-wheel,  and  sparkling  with  foam,  alone  disturbed  the 
stillness  of  this  calm  evening;  willows,  thick  with  leaves,  bent  over  the 
water,  on  which  they  threw  their  green  and  transparent  shadows  j 


10  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

whilst  farther  on  the  river  reflected  the  blue  of  the  firmament  and  the 
warm  tints  of  the  setting  sun  so  splendidly,  that,  but  for  the  hills  which 
separated  it  from  the  sky,  the  gold  and  azure  of  the  wave  would  have 
been  intermingled  in  one  dazzling  sheet  with  the  gold  and  azure  of  the 
heavens.  The  tall  reeds  on  the  bank  bent  their  velvet  heads  beneath 
the  light  breeze  which  so  often  rises  with  the  close  of  day ;  the  sun  was 
slowly  sinking  beneath  a  large  expanse  of  purple  clouds,  tipped  with 
flame.  The  lively  and  clear  air  brought  up  the  distant  tinkling  of  the 
bells  of  a  flock  of  sheep. 

Across  a  path  worn  in  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  two  young  girls, 
almost  children — for  they  were  only  just  fifteen  years  of  age — were 
riding  on  a  white  horse  of  moderate  height,  seated  in  a  large  Spanish 
saddle,  which  easily  held  them  both, — for  they  were  of  small  and 
slender  figure. 

A  very  tall  man,  with  swarthy  complexion  and  long  moustachios, 
led  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  turned  from  time  to  time  towards  the 
youthful  maidens  with  an  air  at  once  anxious,  respectful,  and  paternal. 
He  leaned  on  a  long  staff;  his  shoulders,  still  robust,  bore  a  soldier's 
knapsack  ;  whilst  his  dusty  gaiters  and  his  weary  steps  betokened  the 
fatigue  of  a  lengthened  journey. 

One  of  those  dogs  which  the  people  of  the  north  of  Siberia  attach 
to  their  sledges, — a  powerful  beast,  with  the  size,  the  make,  and  the 
colour  of  a  wolf,  followed  closely  on  the  steps  of  this  little  caravan, 
never  leaving  for  an  instant  the  heels  of  his  master. 

Nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  the  group  of  these  two 
young  girls.  One  of  them  held  in  her  left  hand  the  loose  bridle,  and 
with  her  right  arm  encircled  the  waist  of  her  sleeping  sister,  whose 
head  reposed  on  her  shoulder.  Each  step  of  the  horse  communicated 
to  these  two  yielding  forms  an  undulation  full  of  grace,  as  they 
balanced  their  tiny  feet  on  a  step  made  of  wood,  which  served  them 
for  a  stirrup. 

These  twin-sisters  were  called  Rose  and  Blanche,  owing  to  a 
tender  fancy  of  their  mother.  They  were  orphans,  as  might  be  seen 
from  their  dark-coloured  garments,  which  were  somewhat  faded. 

Such  was  the  exactness  of  their  resemblance  and  the  equality  of 
their  size,  that  it  required  to  be  acquainted  with  them  to  distinguish 
one  sister  from  the  other.  The  portrait  of  her  who  was  not  sleeping 
may  serve  for  both  ;  the  only  difference  that  existed  at  this  moment 
was  that  Rose  was  awake,  and  on  this  day  fulfilled  the  functions  of 
the  elder  sister, — functions  which  were  made  mutual,  thanks  to  the 
fancy  of  their  guide,  who,  an  old  soldier  of  the  empire,  was  a  strict 
disciplinarian,  and  had  thought  it  right  to  alternate  between  the  two 
orphans  subordination  and  control. 

An  artist  would  have  been  inspired  at  the  sight  of  these  two  lovely 
countenances,  with  head-dresses,  or  rather  hoods  of  black  velvet, 
whence  escaped  a  profusion  of  clustering  curls  of  the  brightest  chest- 
nut hair  flowing  down  their  neck  and  shoulders,  and  surrounding  their 
round,  healthy,  and  velvet  cheeks.  A  carnation,  wet  with  dew,  could 
not  display  a  more  lovely  scarlet  than  did  their  pouting  lips;  the 
tender  blue  of  the  violet  would  have  seemed  dark  beside  the 
limpid  azure  of  their  large  eyes,  in  which  were  painted  the  sweetness  of 
their  disposition  and  the  innocence  of  their  age.  A  white  and  smooth 


,' 

.     :        •  : :  ;  i     ',    '  • 


THE    THAVELLBR3. 
P.  ]«. 


I...ii<]on:  Chapman  ,ind  Hall.     January  1.  I- IV 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  11 

brow,  a  delicately  formed  nose,  and  a  dimple  in  their  chin,  completed 
faces  replete  with  ingenuousness  and  sweetness  of  temper. 

It  was  charming  to  see  them  when,  on  the  approach  of  a  shower 
or  a  storm,  the  old  soldier  carefully  wrapped  them  both  in  a  large 
pelisse  of  reindeer's  skin,  and  pulled  over  their  heads  the  capacious 
hood  of  this  weather-proof  garment.  Then  nothing  could  be  more 
delicious  than  these  two  fresh  and  lovely  faces  sheltered  by  this  dark- 
coloured  cloak. 

But  this  evening  was  fine  and  serene,  and  the  heavy  mantle  was 
only  wrapped  around  the  knees  of  the  two  sisters,  whilst  the  large 
hood  fell  back  on  the  crupper  of  the  saddle. 

Rose  kept  her  right  arm  encircled  round  her  sister,  who  still 
slumbered,  gazing  on  her  with  an  air  of  inexpressible  tenderness, 
almost  maternal ;  for  to-day  Rose  was  the  senior,  and  an  elder  sister 
is  already  almost  a  mother. 

Not  only  did  these  orphans  idolise  each  other,  but,  by  a  psycholo- 
gical phenomenon  common  to  twins,  they  were  usually  simultaneously 
affected  ;  the  emotion  of  one  was  instantly  reflected  in  the  countenance 
of  the  other  ;  the  same  cause  made  them  both  start  or  blush,  for  truly 
did  their  young  hearts  beat  in  unison.  In  fact  simple  joys,  bitter 
griefs — all  between  them  was  mutually  felt  and  instantly  participated. 

In  their  infancy,  attacked  at  the  same  moment  by  a  cruel  malady, 
like  two  flowers  on  one  stem,  they  had  together  bent,  grown  pale, 
and  languished  ;  but  together  also  they  had  resumed  their  former 
health  and  charming  appearance. 

Need  we  say  that  these  mysterious  and  indissoluble  bonds  which 
united  the  twins,  could  not  be  severed  without  proving  a  mortal  blow 
to  both  of  them  alike  ? 

Thus  those  tender  creatures,  which  we  call  the  "  love-birds,"  can 
only  live  together;  they  grow  sad,  suffer,  peak,  pine,  and  die,  when 
any  cruel  hand  severs  them  from  each  other. 

The  guardian  of  the  orphans,  a  man  of  about  fifty-five  years  of  age, 
of  a  military  appearance,  presented  the  immortal  type  of  the  soldiers  of 
the  republic  and  the  empire, — that  heroic  offspring  of  the  people,  who 
became  in  one  campaign  the  first  soldiers  in  the  world,  proving  to  the 
world  what  the  people  can  and  will  do  when  those  they  choose  put 
confidence,  reliance,  and  hope  in  them. 

This  soldier,  who  was  the  protector  of  the  two  sisters,  was  an  old 
grenadier  of  the  Imperial  Horse-Guards,  named  Dctgobert.  His  face 
was  serious,  imperturbable,  and  strongly  marked  ;  his  grey  moustache, 
long  and  thick,  completely  hid  his  lower  lip,  and  joined  a  large  im- 
perial, which  covered  nearly  the  whole  of  his  chin  ;  his  lean  cheeks, 
of  the  colour  of  brick-dust  and  tanned  like  old  parchment,  were  care- 
fully shaved  ;  thick  eyebrows,  still  black,  almost  covered  his  light-blue 
eyes  ;  his  gold  ear-rings  descended  to  the  edge  of  his  military  stock  ; 

tthern  belt  confined  his  cloak,  of  thick  grey  cloth,  about  his  waist; 
and  a  blue  cap  with  a  red  tassel,  which  fell  on  his  left  shoulder,  covered 
his  bald  head. 

Once  endued  with  the  strength  of  a  Hercules,  but  always  retaining 
the  courage  of  a  lion,  good  and  patient,  because  he  was  brave  and 
powerful,  Dagobert,  in  spite  of  the  harshness  of  his  features,  evinced 
for  the  orphans  an  exquisite  anxiety,  constant  consideration,  marvel- 


12  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

lous  tenderness,— -almost  maternal — yes,  maternal !  for  the  heroism 
of  affection  displays  the  heart  of  a  mother  and  the  heart  of  a  soldier. 

Of  stoical  calmness,  and  keeping  down  every  appearance  of  emotion, 
the  perfect  sang  froid  of  Dagobcrt  was  never  disturbed  ;  thus  although 
nothing  could  be  less  sportive  than  he,  yet  he  was  at  times  really 
comical  in  consequence  of  that  air  of  unruffled  seriousness  which 
characterised  his  every  action. 

From  time  to  time,  as  he  wended  on  his  way,  Dagobert  turned 
round  to  give  a  pat  or  say  a  kind  word  to  the  good  white  horse  which 
bore  the  orphan  girls,  and  whose  eyes  and  long  teeth  betrayed  his 
respectable  antiquity ;  two  deep  scars,  one  on  the  flank  and  the  other 
on  the  breast,  shewed  that  he  had  been  present  in  fierce  engagements  ; 
and  so  it  was  not  without  an  air  of  pride  that  from  time  to  time  he 
shook  his  old  military  bridle,  on  the  brass  of  whose  bit  there  was  an 
eagle  in  relievo.  His  step  was  easy,  careful,  and  firm  ;  his  skin  glossy, 
his  condition  excellent,  and  the  foam  which  abundantly  covered  his 
bit  proved  the  health  which  horses  acquire  by  the  constant  but  not 
excessive  work  of  a  long  journey  by  short  stages ;  for  although  he 
had  been  en  route  for  more  than  six  months,  this  admirable  animal 
stepped  on  with  as  much  alacrity  as  he  had  started,  bearing  the  two 
orphans  and  a  tolerably  heavy  portmanteau,  fastened  to  the  back  of 
the  saddle. 

If  we  have  alluded  to  the  extreme  length  of  the  teeth  of  the  old 
horse  (and  they  are  the  unmistakable  evidences  of  old  age),  it  was 
because  he  often  shewed  them,  though  only  with  the  intention  of  being 
faithful  to  his  name  (which  was  Jovial),  and  to  play  a  little  prank,  of 
which  the  dog  was  the  victim.  The  dog,  who  was  called  Kill-joy  (no 
doubt  as  a  contrast),  never  left  the  heels  of  his  master,  was  constantly 
within  reach  of  Jovial,  who  now  and  then  biting  him  gently  by  the 
skin  of  his  back,  lifted  him  up  and  carried  him  so  for  an  instant ;  the 
dog,  protected  by  his  thick  hide  and  no  doubt  long  used  to  similar 
facetiousness  from  his  companion,  submitted  to  the  fun  with  an  air 
of  stoical  indifference,  only  when  he  thought  the  joke  had  lasted  long 
enough  Kill-joy  growled  audibly.  Jovial,  who  understood  his  friend's 
nod  as  soon  as  his  wink,  instantly  dropped  him.  At  other  times,  and 
doubtless  by  way  of  a  change,  Jovial  lightly  nibbled  the  soldier's 
haversack  ;  and  his  master,  with  his  dog,  seemed  perfectly  accustomed 
to  these  little  jokes. 

These  details  will  enable  us  to  learn  the  excellent  terms  which 
existed  between  the  two  twin-sisters,  the  old  soldier,  the  horse,  and  the 
dog. 

The  little  caravan  advanced,  somewhat  impatient  to  reach  the  vil- 
lage of  Mockern,  which  was  in  sight,  before  nightfall. 

Dagobert  looked  about  him  from  time  to  time,  seeming  as  though 
recalling  old  remembrances  to  his  mind.  Gradually  his  features  grew 
sad,  and  when  he  was  at  a  little  distance  from  the  windmill,  whose 
noise  had  attracted  his  attention,  he  stopped,  and  frequently  passed 
his  fore-finger  and  thumb  over  his  long  moustachios,  the  only  symptom 
of  a  strong  and  irrepressible  emotion  that  he  ever  displayed.  Jovial 
having  stopped  suddenly  behind  his  master,  Blanche,  who  was 
awakened  by  this,  raised  her  head  :  her  first  look  was  at  her  sister, 
at  whom  she  smiled  sweetly  ;  they  both  exchanged  looks  of  surprise 


IlEMEMBRANCES. 
P.  IJ. 


-. man  an«l  Hall.     January  I,  1>V>. 


TUT,  TRAVELLERS.  13 

at  the  sight  of  Dagobert  motionless,  his  hands  clasped  together  on  the 
top  of  his  long  staff,  and  apparently  overcome  by  a  powerful  and  over- 
bearing feeling. 

The  orphans  were  at  this  moment  at  the  foot  of  a  small  mound, 
whose  top  was  hidden  by  the  thick  foliage  of  a  vast  oak,  planted  half 
way  up  this  little  elevation.  Rose,  seeing  Dagobert  still  motionless  and 
lost  in  thought,  leaned  forward  in  her  saddle,  and,  placing  her  little 
white  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  soldier,  whose  back  was  towards  her, 
said  to  him,  in  a  soft  tone, — 

"  What  ails  you,  Dagobert  ?" 

The  veteran  turned  round,  and,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the  two 
sisters,  they  saw  a  large  tear  which,  having  marked  its  moistened  furrow 
down  his  embrowned  cheek,  lost  itself  in  his  thick  moustache. 

"  What,  weeping?  Yes!"  exclaimed  Rose  and  Blanche,  much 
moved  ;  "  tell  us,  we  beseech  you,  what — what  'tis  that  ails  you." 

After  a  trifling  hesitation,  the  old  soldier  drew  his  hard  hand  across 
his  eyes,  and  pointing  to  the  aged  oak  near  which  they  were  resting, 
he  said,  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion, — 

"  My  poor  children,  I  shall  make  you  grieve — but  what  I  have  to 
say  is  a  sacred  duty  I  must  fulfil.  Listen  :  it  is  now  eighteen  years 
since  the  battle  of  Leipsic  ;  on  the  eve  of  that  bloody  scene  I  bore 
your  father  in  my  arms,  all  wounded  and  bleeding,  and  placed  him 
beneath  this  very  tree.  He  had  received  two  sabre-cuts  on  his  head, 
and  a  musket-ball  in  his  shoulder  :  it  was  here  that  both  he  and  myself, 
who  had  escaped  with  merely  some  flesh  wounds,  were  taken  prisoners; 
and  by  whom,  think  ye  ?  By  a  renegade,  a  traitor  to  his  country,  a 
Frenchman,  an  emigre  marquess,  now  a  colonel  in  the  Russian  service, 
and  who  subsequently — but  another  time,  you  shall  hear  all  that 
followed." 

Then,  after  a  short  pause,  the  veteran,  pointing  with  his  stick  to 
the  village  of  Mockern,  added,  "  Yes,  yes,  there  it  is!  Well  do  I 
recognise  those  heights,  where  your  brave  father,  at  the  head  of  his 
regiment  of  Polonaise  guards,  cut  down  the  Russian  cuirassiers,  and 
carried  the  battery  they  were  in  charge  of.  Ah,  my  children,"  added 
he,  with  grave  simplicity,  "  I  only  wish  you  could  have  seen  your 
gallant  parent,  at  the  head  of  his  brigade,  charge  in  the  thickest  of  the 
enemy's  ranks,  while  the  shot  flew  about  like  hailstones.  You  will 
never  see  such  a  sight,  anymore  than  I  shall  ever  look  upon  his  equal." 

While  Dagobert  was  thus  expressing  his  regrets  and  his  recollec- 
tions, the  two  orphans,  by  a  spontaneous  movement,  had  lightly  slid 
from  their  saddle,  and,  holding  each  other  by  the  hand,  had  kneeled 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  old  oak,  then,  closely  pressing  to  each  other's 
side,  they  burst  into  tears,  while  the  old  soldier,  standing  behind  them, 
crossed  his  hands  on  his  long  staff,  and  leaned  his  bald  forehead  on 
them. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  he,  gently,  when  looking  up  at  the  end  of  a 
few  minutes  passed  in  intense  meditation — it  might  be  prayer — he  per- 
ceived tears  stealing  down  the  delicate  cheeks  of  the  still  kneeling 
sisters  ;  "  come,  dear  children,  you  must  not  fret.  Perhaps  we  shall 
meet  General  Simon  again  in  Paris,"  continued  he;  "1  will  explain 
myself  more  fully  to  you  this  evening,  ere  we  retire  to  rest.  I  had  my 
own  particular  reasons  for  choosing  this  day  to  relate  to  you  many 


14  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

things  concerning  your  father.  I  always  wished  to  select  this  one 
particular  day  to  acquaint  you  with  much  it  is  necessary  you  should 
be  aware  of,  and  to-day  is  the  anniversary " 

*«  We  were  weeping,"  said  Rose,  "  because  we  thought  of  our  dear 
mother." 

"  Whom  we  shall  never  see  again  till  we  rejoin  her  in  Heaven," 
added  Blanche. 

The  soldier  raised  the  orphans,  took  a  hand  of  each,  and  looked 
alternately  from  one  to  the  other  with  an  expression  of  ineffable  attach- 
ment, rendered  still  more  striking  by  the  contrast  with  his  own  weather- 
beaten  countenance.  "  You  must  not  grieve  thus,  dear  children,"  said 
he.  "  True,  your  mother  was  one  of  the  best,  most  estimable  of 
women.  When  she  inhabited  Poland,  she  was  styled  '  the  Pearl  of 
Warsaw;'  they  might  more  justly  have  called  her  the  Pearl  of  the 
whole  world,  for  the  universe  itself  could  not  produce  her  equal.  No — 
no " 

The  voice  of  Dagobert  died  away ;  his  broad  chest  heaved  as  with 
suppressed  emotion,  and,  according  to  his  usual  wont,  he  remained 
silently  smoothing  down  his  long  moustache  with  his  finger  and  thumb, — 

"  Hear  me,  my  dear  children,"  said  he,  after  having  successfully 
struggled  with  his  emotion  ;  "  were  your  beloved  mother  still  with  you, 
she  could  but  give  you  good  counsels — could  she?" 

"  No,  Dagobert." 

"  And  what  were  her  dying  injunctions  to  you  both  ?  To  think  con- 
stantly of  her,  but  to  restrain  all  grief." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  those  were  nearly  her  last  words.  She  often  told 
us  that  a  merciful  God,  in  pity  to  tender  mothers  constrained  to  leave 
their  children  on  earth,  would  permit  them  the  delightful  privilege  of 
watching  over  their  offsprings,  and  hearing  their  prayers  from  Heaven," 
said  Blanche,  innocently. 

"  And  that  her  eye  would  ever  behold  us,"  added  Rose. 

So  saying,  the  sisters,  as  though  influenced  by  one  spontaneous 
feeling,  clasped  each  other's  hand  with  an  air  of  touching  innocence, 
and  lifting  their  clear,  blue  eyes  towards  the  scarcely  bluer  sky,  re- 
peated, with  all  the  enchanting  simplicity  of  their  age  and  disposition, — 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  we  know  that  you  see  and  hear  your  poor 
children." 

"  Then  since  you  are  aware  that  your  lost  parent  sees  and  hears 
all  you  do  and  say,"  interrupted  Dagobert,  deeply  affected,  "  beware 
how  you  grieve  her  by  giving  way  to  regrets  she  so  expressly  forbade." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert." 

"  We  will  not  weep  any  more,"  said  the  orphans,  drying  their  tears. 

Now  Dagobert,  far  from  being  in  the  slightest  degree  a  bigot, 
approached  more  closely  to  a  state  of  heathenism.  In  Spain,  he  had 
cut  down,  with  the  utmost  indifference,  those  monks  of  all  orders  and 
complexions  who,  bearing  a  crucifix  in  one  hand  and  a  poniard  in  the 
other,  defended,  not  liberty  (the  Inquisition  had  for  ages  baffled  all 
attempts  of  that  nature),  but  their  monstrous  privileges.  Still  Dago- 
bert had  for  upwards  of  forty  years  been  present  at  so  many  sights  of 
fearful  and  terrible  grandeur ;  he  had  so  often  stared  in  the  very  jaws 
of  death  that  the  instinct  of  "  natural  religion,"  common  to  all  simple 
and  honest  minds,  had  still  survived  in  his  soul;  thus,  though  unable 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  15 

fully  to  understand  or  participate  in  the  tender  illusion  which  served  to 
console  the  weeping  orphans,  he  would  have  deemed  it  an  unpardon- 
able crime  to  have  sought  in  any  way  to  destroy  the  fabric  of  hope 
which  supported  them.  Seeing  them  more  composed,  he  resumed, — 

"  That's  right,  my  children  ;  dry  up  your  tears,  and  prattle  away 
as  you  did  this  morning,  and  all  yesterday,  laughing  at  your  own  little 
jokes,  and  not  even  answering  when  I  spoke  to  you,  so  entirely  were 
you  occupied  with  your  own  conversation.  Yes,  yes,  young  ladies; 
the  old  soldier  has  found  you  out.  You  have  got  some  nice,  clever 
little  business  to  talk  over,  and  you  have  been  quite  occupied  with  it 
for  the  last  three  days.  Well,  so  it  does  but  serve  to  amuse  you,  and 
pass  the  tedious  time  away,  I  am  as  much  pleased  with  it  as  you  are." 

The  sisters  blushed,  and  exchanged  a  smile  which  contrasted  greatly 
with  the  tears  still  glittering  in  their  eyes.  At  length  Rose  replied, 
with  a  slightly  embarrassed  manner, — 

"  Indeed,  and  indeed,  good  Dagobert,  we  were  not  talking  of  any 
thing  in  particular  :  we  just  spoke  of  whatever  came  first  in  our  heads." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  don't  seek  to  know  any  more  than  it  pleases  you  to 
tell  me.  And  now  take  a  little  rest,  and  then  we  will  resume  our 
journey,  for  it  is  growing  late,  and  we  must  reach  Mockern  before 
night,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  set  out  again  to-morrow  morning 
quite  early." 

"  We  have  still  a  very  long  way  to  go — have  we  not?"  inquired 
Rose. 

"  In  order  to  reach  Paris,  you  mean  ?  Yes,  my  dear  children  ; 
we  have  at  least  a  hundred  marches  before  us.  We  get  on,  though 
may-be  slowly,  and  we  travel  cheaply  too,  for  our  purse  is  but  a  slender 
one.  But  then  our  wants  are  few  :  just  a  small  chamber  for  you,  with 
a  palliasse  and  coverlet  for  myself,  outside  your  door,  with  old  Killjoy 
at  my  feet;  a  litter  of  fresh  straw  for  Jovial:  here  is  all  our  expense, 
for  as  to  food,  both  of  you  together  scarcely  eat  more  than  a  bird  ;  and 
as  to  myself,  I  learned,  when  I  was  in  Spain  and  Egypt,  to  reserve 
my  appetite  till  I  could  conveniently  indulge  it." 

"  You  forget  to  add,  that  in  order  to  economise  still  more,  you 
have  undertaken  the  sole  duty  of  providing  every  thing  we  required, 
without  permitting  us  to  assist  you  in  any  way." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  good  Dagobert,  when  we  think  too  that  after  first 
attending  to  all  our  wants,  and  seeing  us  comfortably  provided  for  the 
night,  you  have  actually  set  about  washing  and  preparing  our  small 
stock  of  clothes ;  and,  as  if  it  were  not  our  place  to  perform  such 
offices  for  ourselves " 

"  You !"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  interrupting  Blanche.  "  What !  al- 
low you  to  spoil  your  delicate  little  hands  by  dabbling  in  coarse,  soapy 
water  ?  I  should  think  not,  indeed  !  Besides,  a  soldier  is  accustomed 
to  wash  his  own  linen,  and,  I  can  assure  you,  young  ladies,  whatever 
you  may  think,  I  was  considered  the  best  laundress  in  the  regiment ; 
and  as  for  ironing,  I  think  I  am  a  pretty  good  hand  at  that  too,  eh, 
ladies?" 

"  Oh,  impossible  to  be  better ;  you  excel  in  ironing." 

"  Only  sometimes,"  said  Rose,  smilingly,  "  you  rather  scorch  the 
things." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  that  comes  of  my  iron  being  too  hot.     Why,  you  see, 


16  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

if  I  hold  it  towards  ray  cheek,  to  judge  of  the  heat,  my  skin  is  so 
thoroughly  hardened  that  I  cannot  feel  it,"  said  Dagobert,  with  the 
most  imperturbable  gravity. 

"  Don't  you  perceive  that  we  are  only  joking,  good  Dagobert?" 

"  Well  then,  my  children,  if  you  are  satisfied  with  me  as  a 
laundress,  I  hope  you  will  continue  to  me  your  custom.  It  is,  at 
least,  a  cheap  plan  ;  and,  while  we  are  en  route,  poor  folks  like 
ourselves  should  be  as  saving  as  possible,  that  our  means  may  hold 
out  till  our  arrival  in  Paris.  Our  papers,  and  the  medal  you  have 
about  you,  will  do  the  rest  —  at  least  we  must  hope  so." 

"  The  medal  is  most  sacred  in  our  eyes.  It  was  our  beloved 
mother's  dying  gift." 

"  Then  be  most  careful  not  to  lose  it,  and  look  from  time  to  time 
that  you  still  have  it  about  you." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Blanche,  drawing  from  her  corsage  a  small 
bronze  medal,  which  she  wore  suspended  round  her  neck  bv  a  slender 
chain  of  the  same  medal.  This  medal  presented  on  its  two  sides  the 
following  inscriptions  :  — 


Victime 

de 

L.C.D.J. 
Priez  pour  moi. 


February  13,  1682. 


Paris, 

3  Rue  St.  Franfois. 
Dans  un  siecle  et  demi  vous 


serez 


February  13,  1832. 
Paris, 


Priez  pour  moi. 


"  What  does  all  that  mean,  Dagobert  ?"  said  Blanche,  attentively 
observing  these  mysterious  inscriptions.  "  Our  dear  mother  did  not 
know  herself." 

"  We  will  talk  more  about  it  when  we  reach  the  village  we  are 
hastening  to,"  replied  Dagobert.  "It  is  growing  late.  Let  us  start 
on  our  way.  Be  very  careful  with  this  medal ;  and  now,  en  route, 
we  have  still  an  hour's  march  ere  we  reach  our  halt.  Come,  my  dear 
children,  give  one  more  look  to  the  hillock  once  moistened  with  your 
father's  blood,  and  then — to  horse — -to  horse  !" 

The  young  orphans  bent  a  glance  of  mingled  piety  and  regret  on  the 
spot  which  had  awakened  such  feelings  of  painful  regret  in  their 
usually  imperturbable  guide,  and  then,  with  his  aid,  resumed  their  seat 
on  Jovial. 

This  venerable  and  sagacious  animal  had  not  employed  the  leisure 
afforded  him  by  indulging  in  a  little  ramble  on  his  own  account,  but, 
with  all  the  forethought  of  a  consummate  general,  had  availed  himself 
of  the  present  opportunity  to  lay  in  a  comfortable  provision  for  the 
night  by  industriously  devouring  the  fresh  and  tender  grass  he  found 
growing  on  a  foreign  territory,  and  that,  too,  with  so  much  apparent 
enjoyment  as  almost  to  excite  the  envy  of  Killjoy,  who,  stretched  out 
on  the  grass,  his  nose  between  his  two  fore-paws,  was  attentively 
watching  the  signal  of  departure,  which  once  given,  he  rose  and 
resumed  his  place  behind  his  master.  Dagobert,  first  striking  the 
earth  with  the  end  of  his  long  staff,  conducted  the  horse  by  his  bridle, 
walking  with  great  precaution,  from  the  increasing  marshiness  of  the 
ground.  At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes  travelling,  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  strike  off  towards  the  left  in  order  to  regain  the  highroad. 


THE  ARRIVAL.  17 

Dagobert  having,  on  his  arrival  at  Mockern,  inquired  for  the  most 
humble  house  of  entertainment,  was  referred  to  the  White  Falcon,  as 
being  the  only  inn  the  village  afforded. 

"  On,  then,  to  the  White  Falcon,"  replied  the  soldier,  as,  following 
the  directions  given,  he  directed  Jovial  to  the  inn  in  question. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  ARRIVAL. 

MOROK,  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts,  had  already  many  times,  and 
with  great  impatience,  opened  the  shutter  in  the  garret  which  looked 
out  into  the  courtyard  of  the  White  Falcon,  anxious  to  watch  the 
arrival  of  the  two  orphans  and  the  soldier.  Not  having  yet  seen  them 
arrive,  he  began  again  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  with  his  arms 
folded  on  his  breast,  his  head  lowered,  as  though  reflecting  on  the  best 
mode  of  executing  some  plan  which  he  had  conceived.  His  ideas  were, 
doubtless,  employed  very  painfully,  for  his  features  seemed  even  more 
sinister  than  usual. 

In  spite  of  his  wild  appearance,  the  man  was  by  no  means  deficient 
in  intelligence :  the  intrepidity  of  which  he  gave  proof  in  his  displays, 
and  which,  by  a  clever  deceit,  he  attributed  to  his  recent  state  of  grace, 
a  language  at  times  solemn  and  mysterious,  and  an  austere  hypocrisy, 
had  combined  to  give  him  a  sort  of  influence  over  the  people  whom  he 
visited  in  his  peregrinations. 

Morok,  long  before  his  conversion,  had  been  fully  familiarised  with 
the  habits  of  wild  beasts.  Bom  in  the  north  of  Siberia,  he  had,  whilst 
very  young,  been  one  of  the  boldest  hunters  of  the  bear  and  reindeer. 
Still  later,  in  1810,  giving  up  that  pursuit,  he  had  become  the  guide 
of  a  Russian  engineer  charged  with  the  survey  of  the  polar  regions, 
and  had  accompanied  him  to  St.  Petersburg.  There  Morok,  after 
many  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  was  employed  amongst  the  imperial 
couriers,  those  iron  automata,  whom  the  least  caprice  of  a  despot  sends 
forth  in  a  frail  sledge  through  the  whole  vast  extent  of  empire  from 
Persia  to  the  Frozen  Ocean.  These  persons,  who  travel  day  and  night 
with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  think  not  of  seasons,  obstacles,  fatigues, 
or  dangers  :  mere  human  projectiles,  they  must  be  broken  or  reach 
their  destination.  We  may  imagine,  therefore,  the  boldness,  vigour, 
and  resignation,  of  men  accustomed  to  such  an  existence. 

It  is  useless  here  to  detail  the  remarkable  series  of  events  which 
led  Morok  to  abandon  this  life  of  peril  for  another  pursuit,  and  how 
he  entered  as  a  catechumen  into  a  religious  house  at  Fribourg,  after 
which,  properly  and  really  converted,  he  had  commenced  his  wander- 
ings, accompanied  by  a  menagerie  with  whose  origin  no  one  was 

acquainted. 

»  *  *  *  * 

Morok  was  walking  up  and  down  his  attic. 
It  was  night. 
2  c 


18  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The   three  persons  whom  he  so  impatiently   expected   had  not 

arrived. 

His  step  became  more  and  more  irresolute  and  impment 
Suddenly  he   stopped,   leaned   his   head   in  the   direction  of  the 
\vindow  and  listened. 

The  man  had  a  hearing  as  acute  as  a  savage. 
"  They  come  !"  he  exclaimed. 

And  the  balls  of  his  savage  eyes  glared  with  fiendish  joy  ;  he  had 
heard  the  footsteps  of  a  man  and  horse. 

Going  to  the  shutter  of  his  garret,  he  carefully  half  opened  it,  and 
saw  the  two  young  girls  on  horseback,  and  the  old  soldier  who  guided 
them,  enter  the  courtyard  of  the  inn. 

The  night  had  set  in  dark  and  cloudy  ;  a  high  wind  blew  about  the 
lifht  of  the  lantern  by  which  the  guests  were  welcomed  and  assisted. 
The  description  which  Morok  had  received  was  too  precise  for  him  to 
be  deceived. 

Sure  of  his  prey,  he  closed  the  window. 

After  havin°-  reflected  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour — no  doubt,  that  he 
might  fitly  arrange  all  his  plans — he  leant  over  the  opening  of  the  trap 
from  which  the  top  of  the  ladder  which  served  him   as  a  staircase 
projected,  and  called, 
"Goliath!" 

11  Master  ! "  replied  a  hoarse  voice. 
"Come  hither!" 

"  Here  I  am,  just  come  from  the  slaughter-house.  I've  got  the 
meat  with  me." 

The  steps  of  the  ladder  groaned  again,  and  soon  an  enormous  head 
appeared  on  a  level  with  the  floor. 

Goliath  (and  fitly  was  he  named,  for  he  was  upwards  of  six  feet 
six,  and  cast  in  the  mould  of  Hercules)  was  hideous  ;  his  scowling  eyes 
were  deep  sunk  beneath  his  low  and  projecting  brow  ;  his  matted  locks 
and  beard  were  thick  and  hard  as  horsehair,  giving  to  his  features  a 
brutal  character  ;  between  his  large  jaws,  armed  with  teeth  like  hooks, 
he  held  by  one  corner  a  piece  of  raw  beef,  weighing  ten  or  twelve 
pounds,  finding  it,  no  doubt,  more  convenient  to  carry  the  meat  in  this 
way,  that  he  might  have  his  hands  free  to  help  him  up  the  ladder, 
which  trembled  beneath  his  tread. 

At  last  this  vast  and  bulky  frame  wholly  appeared  at  the  trap, 
and  by  his  bull's  neck  and  the  vast  width  of  his  chest  and  shoulders, 
and  the  large  proportions  of  his  arms  and  legs,  it  might  be  seen  that 
this  giant  could  fearlessly  wrestle  with  a  bear. 

He  wore  an  old  pair  of  blue  trousers  with  red  stripes  and  laced 
with  sheep-skin,  a  sort  of  coat,  or  rather  cuirass,  of  very  thick  leather, 
torn  in  places  by  the  sharp  nails  of  animals. 

When  he  reached  the  floor  Goliath  unclosed  his  hooks,  opened  his 
mouth,  letting  his  quarter  of  beef  fall  on  the  ground,  licked  his  bloody 
moustaches  with  a  relish. 

This  sort  of  animal  had,  like  many  other  mountebanks,  begun  by 
eating  raw  flesh  at  fairs  to  get  money  from  the  gaping  crowds.  Having 
thus  acquired  a  taste  for  this  cannibal  food,  and  uniting  his  taste  with 
his  interest,  he  used  to  preface  the  display  of  Morok  by  eating  some 
pounds  of  raw  flesh  in  presence  of  the  astonished  crowds. 


MOROK    AND   GOLIATH. 
P.  l«. 


<  li.ipni.in    u; 


THE  ARRIVAL.  19 

"  My  share  and  La  Mort's  are  below ;  here's  Cain  and  Judas's 
allowance,"  said  Goliath,  pointing  to  the  piece  of  beef.  "  Where's 
the  hatchet  ?  I  want  to  chop  it  in  two.  No  preference ;  beast  or 
man :  let  every  wesand  have  its  fair  share,  I  say." 

Then  tucking  up  one  of  the  sleeves  of  his  garment  he  displayed  an 
arm  as  hairy  as  a  wolfs  skin,  and  furrowed  by  veins  as  thick  as  a 
man's  thumb. 

"  Now,  master,  where's  the  chopper?"  he  again  inquired,  looking 
around  him. 

Instead  of  replying,  the  prophet  asked  him  several  questions. 

"  Were  you  below  when  those  new  comers  entered  the  inn  just 
now  ?" 

"  Yes,  master ;  I  was  just  coming  out  of  the  slaughter-house." 

"  Who  are  they  ?" 

"  Oh,  there's  two  little  wenches  on  a  white  horse ;  there's  an  old 
chap  with  'em,  with  long  moustaches But  the  chopper,  the  ani- 
mals are  terribly  hungry,  so  am  I, — so  where's  the  chopper  ?" 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  have  lodged  these  travellers  ?" 

"  The  landlord  took  the  little  girls  and  the  old  fellow  to  the  bottom 
of  the  court-yard." 

"  In  the  building  which  looks  on  to  the  fields  ?" 

"  Yes,  master  ;  but  the " 

Here  a  concert  of  fierce  roars  shook  the  very  floor  of  the  garret 
and  interrupted  Goliath. 

"  There  now,  d'ye  hear  ?"  he  exclaimed.  "  Hunger  has  made  the 
animals  quite  furious.  If  I  could  roar,  I  should  do  so  too.  I  never 
saw  Judas  and  Cain  as  they  are  to-night;  they  jump  about  in  their 
cages  ready  to  break  'em.  As  to  La  Mort,  her  eyes  shine  brighter  than 
ever — just  like  two  candles.  Poor  Mort !" 

Morok  replied,  without  paying  any  regard  to  Goliath's  remarks, — 

"  The  young  girls,  then,  are  put  in  the  building  at  the  bottom  of 
the  court-yard  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  for  love  of  the  devil,  the  chopper  !  Since  Karl 
was  sent  away,  all  the  work  falls  on  one,  and  that  makes  the  feeding- 
time  come  later." 

"  And  the  old  man  is  with  the  girls  ?" 

Goliath,  astonished  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  urging,  his  master  did 
not  think  of  the  animals'  supper,  regarded  the  prophet  with  an  air  of 
excessive  surprise. 

"  Answer  me,  brute  ! " 

"  If  I'm  a  brute,  I've  a  brute's  strength,"  said  Goliath,  in  a  sulky 
tone,  "  and,  brute  against  brute,  I  haven't  always  the  worst  of  it." 

"  I  ask  you  if  the  old  man  is  with  the  young  girls  ?"  repeated 
Morok. 

"  Ah!  no,"  replied  the  giant,  "  the  old  chap,  after  having  led  his 
horse  to  the  stable,  asked  for  a  tub  and  some  water,  and  there  he  is 
under  the  porch,  and  by  the  light  of  a  lantern  he  is  soaping  away — he 
with  grey  moustaches,  soaping  like  a  washerwoman  ! — just  as  if  I  should 
be  feeding  canaries  with  bird-seed,"  added  Goliath,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  with  contempt. 

"  Now  I've  answered,  master,  please  let  me  get  the  beasts'  supper 


2Q  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

* 

ready  ?"    Then  looking  about  him,  he  added,  "  But  where  is  the 

.  0" 

°  After  a  moment's  reflection,  the  prophet  said  to  Goliath,— 

•«  You  must  not  feed  the  beasts  this  evening." 

At  first  Goliath  did  not  understand,  for  the  very  idea  was  t< 
incomprehensible. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  master?     he  inquired.  ^ 

"  I  desire  that  you  will  not  feed  the  beasts  this  evening. 

Goliath  made  no  reply,  but  opened  his  heavy  eyes  to  an  immense 
size,  clasped  his  hands  and  retreated  two  steps. 

"Well,  you  understand  me  now,  don't  you?'    said  Morok,  impa- 
tientlv.     "  It's  plain  enough  ;   is  it  not?" 

"Not  to  eat  when  here's  the  meat,  and  supper  s  three  hours  behind 
time  ?"  cried  Goliath,  in  increasing  amaze. 

"  Obey,  and  be  silent." 

"  Do  you,  then,  wish  some  frightful  accident  to  happen  to-night? 
Hunger  will  render  these  beasts  perfectly  furious,  and  me  likewise." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  Mad  !" 

«  All  the  better." 

"  How  all  the  better  ?     Why " 

"  Enough !" 

"But,  by  the   devil's  backbone!   I  am   as  hungry  as  the  very 

beasts  themselves." 

"  Then  eat!     Who  hinders  you  ?    Your  supper  is  ready,  since  you 

eat  it  raw." 

"  I  never  eat  without  my  beasts,  nor  they  without  me. 

"  Then  I  repeat,  that  if  you  give  the  animals  one  taste  of  food  I 
will  dismiss  you  instantly." 

Goliath  uttered  a  deep  growl  about  as  tuneful  and  soft  as  that  ot 
a  bear,  while  he  surveyed  the  prophet  with  an  air  at  once  stupified 
and  wrathful. 

Morok,  having  given  his  orders,  continued  to  pace  with  hasty 
strides,  though  buried  in  profound  reflection  ;  then,  addressing  Goliath, 
who  still  remained  in  utter  amazement,  he  said, — 

"  You  recollect  the  burgomaster's  house,  where  I  went  this  evening 
to  have  my  passport  signed,  and  where  the  wife  purchased  some  little 
books  and  a  chaplet  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  recollect,"  answered  the  giant,  surlily. 

"  Go,  then,  and  inquire  of  the  servant  if  I  can  depend  upon  seeing 
the  burgomaster  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  What  for  ?" 

"  I  may  possibly  have  something  of  importance  to  communicate  to 
him.  At  any  rate,  say  that  I  particularly  beg  he  will  not  leave  his 
house  to-morrow  until  I  have  seen  him." 

"  Very  well,"  grumbled  out  the  giant.  "  But  my  poor  dear  beasts 
you  will  let  me  feed  them,  will  you  not,  before  I  go  to  the  burgo- 
master ?  Only  the  Java  panther, — he  is  the  most  famished  of  all ; 
just  let  me  give  La  Mort  one  little  bit,  only  a  mouthful  or  two  be- 
tween the  poor  starved  brutes,  and  then  master  Cain,  and  myself,  and 
Judas,  will  wait." 


THE  ARRIVAL.  21 

• 

"  It  is  that  panther  I  most  particularly  desire  you  to  keep  with- 
out one  morsel  of  food.  Yes,  I  tell  you,  ho  more  than  any 
other." 

"  By  the  horns  of  the  devil !"  exclaimed  Goliath,  "  what  ails  you 
to-day?     I  can't  make  you  out  at  all.    Pity  Karl  is  not  here  ;  he  is  so 
deep  and  knowing,  he  would  soon  find  out  why  you  keep  the  poor 
starving  beasts  from  having  any  thing  to  eat.     1  should  be  able  to  un- 
derstand what  reasons  you  can  possibly  have." 
'There  is  no  need  for  your  understanding." 
Will  not  Karl  soon  be  back  ?" 
He  has  returned." 
Where  is  he,  then  ?" 
Gone  again." 

4  What  can  be  going  on  here  ?  I  am  sure  there  is  something. 
Karl  goes — returns — sets  out  again  —  and " 

"  But  our  present  business  is  with  you,  not  with  Karl.  You,  who, 
though  hungry  as  a  wolf,  are  as  cunning  as  a  fox,  and,  when  you 
please,  as  deep  as  Karl  himself." 

With  these  encouraging  words  Morok  patted  the  giant  on  the 
shoulder  with  every  appearance  of  friendly  zeal,  changing  his  former 
imperative  style  info  a  tone  and  expression  of  entire  cordiality.  Go- 
liath seemed  still  more  unable  to  comprehend  what  his  master  really 
meant.  At  last  he  opened  his  great  eyes  wider  than  usual  and  ex- 
claimed, "  Cunning  as  Karl !  what,  I  ?" 

"  Come,  I  will  prove  it.  There  arc  ten  florins  to  be  got  to-night, 
and  you  will  be  the  cunning,  clever  fellow  who  will  gain  them  —  I  am 
sure  you  will." 

"  Ah,  yes !  as  far  as  that  goes  I  am  deep  enough,"  replied  the 
giant,  smiling  with  a  stupid  and  self-satisfied  air.  "  But  I  say,  master, 
what  must  one  do  to  gain  these  ten  florins  ?" 

"  You  will  see." 

4 '  Is  it  any  thing  very  difficult?" 

"  You  will  see.  You  will  begin  by  going  to  the  burgomaster.  But 
first,  ere  you  depart,  light  me  this  brasier,"  said  Morok,  pointing  with 
his  finger  to  a  small  stove. 

"  Yes,  master,"  replied  the  giant,  deriving  considerable  consolation 
from  the  idea  of  gaining  ten  florins,  though  he  was  made  to  wait  for 
his  supper. 

"  Place  this  bar  of  steel  in  the  brasier  until  it  becomes  red-hot," 
added  the  prophet* 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  Leave  it  in  the  fire  while  you  go  with  my  message  to  the  burgo- 
master ;  then  return  and  await  me  here." 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  You  must  also  keep  a  strong  fire  in  the  furnace." 

"  Yes,  master." 

Morok  took  a  few  steps  as  though  leaving  the  room,  when,  chang- 
ing his  purpose,  he  said, — 

"  You  told  me  the  man  who  just  arrived  here  was  engaged  washing 
linen  under  the  porch  ?" 

"Yes,  master." 


22  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Forget  nothing ;  the  bar  of  iron  in  the  fire,  the  burgomaster,  and 
to  return  and  await  my  orders  here." 

So  saying,  the  prophet  descended  the  ladder  leading  from  the 
garret  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MOROK  AND  DAGOBEUT. 

GOLIATH  was  not  mistaken.  Dagobert  was  soaping  away  with 
that  air  of  imperturbable  gravity  which  never  forsook  him. 

If  we  consider  the  habits  of  a  soldier  in  a  campaign,  we  shall  not 
be  astonished  at  this  apparent  eccentricity;  besides,  Dagobert  only 
thought  how  he  was  to  spare  the  slender  purse  of  the  orphans,  and 
save  them  from  all  care,  all  trouble  ;  and,  therefore,  each  evening 
after  the  day's  march,  he  occupied  himself  with  sundry  feminine 
occupations.  Besides,  he  was  not  in  his  apprenticeship ;  for  often 
during  his  campaigns  he  had  very  industriously  repaired  the  damage 
and  disorder  which  a  day  of  battle  necessarily  brings  to  the  uniform 
and  equipments  of  a  soldier  who  not  only  may  receive  sword-cuts, 
but  must  also  mend  his  uniform  ;  since  when  the  skin  is  cut,  the  blade 
also  makes  in  the  garment  an  unseemly  opening. 

Thus  the  evening  or  day  after  a  severe  combat,  the  best  soldiers 
(always  known  by  their  extremely  neat  attire)  may  be  seen  drawing 
from  their  haversack  or  portmanteau  a  small  housewife  furnished  with 
needles,  thread,  scissors,  and  other  utilities,  in  order  to  go  to  work 
at  all  sorts  of  mending  and  repairs,  of  which  the  most  careful  seam- 
stress might  be  jealous. 

We  cannot  find  a  better  time  to  explain  why  the  surname  of 
Dagobert  was  given  to  Fra^ois  Baudoin  (the  guide  to  the  two  orphans), 
when  he  was  recognised  as  one  of  the  finest  and  bravest  grenadiers 
in  the  Imperial  Horse-Guards. 

There  had  been  a  fierce  struggle  during  the  day,  without  any 
decisive  advantage.  In  the  evening  the  company  of  which  Francois 
formed  one,  had  been  sent  on  to  occupy  the  ruins  of  a  deserted  village : 
the  outposts  and  sentinels  being  placed,  one  half  the  troopers  remained 
on  horseback,  whilst  the  other  took  some  rest  and  picketed  their 
horses.  Our  friend  had  charged  amongst  the  bravest  without  being- 
wounded  this  time,  for  he  only  called  a  remembrancer  a  deep  scratch 
which  a  Kaiserlitz  had  given  him  in  the  thigh  by  a  thrust  of  the 
bayonet,  clumsily  delivered. 

"  Scoundrel !  my  new  breeches  !"  cried  the  grenadier,  when  he 
saw  a  wide  rent  on  the  thigh  of  his  garment,  which  he  revenged  by  a 
heavy  down  blow  of  his  sabre,  which  cleft  the  Austrian's  skull.  If  the 
grenadier  evinced  a  stoical  indifference  on  the  subject  of  this  slight 
gash  on  his  skin,  he  was  by  no  means  so  indifferent  to  the  disastrous 
wound  which  his  full-dress  breeches  had  sustained. 

At  bivouac  the  same  evening,  therefore,  he  undertook  to  remedy 


MOHOK  AND  DAGOBKRT.  23 

this  accident;  and,  drawing  his  housewife  from  his  pocket  and  choosing 
his  best  thread,  best  needle,  and  arming  his  finger  with  his  thimble,  he 
began  his  tailor-work  by  the  light  of  the  bivouac  fire,  having  first 
divested  himself  of  his  jack-boots,  and  (we  must  confess  it)  of  his 
breeches  too ;  he  turned  the  latter  wrong  side  outwards,  that  he  might 
sew  them  on  the  inner  side  that  the  stitches  should  not  then  be  so 
apparent. 

This  partial  dishabille  was  somewhat  contrary  to  discipline  ;  but 
the  captain  who  went  the  round  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  sight 
of  the  old  soldier,  who,  gravely  seated  with  his  legs  under  him,  his 
hairy  cap  on  his  head,  his  full  uniform  on  his  back,  his  boots  by  his 
side,  and  his  breeches  on  his  knees,  was  stitching  away  as  coolly  as 
a  tailor  on  his  shop-board. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  alarm  of  musketry,  and  the  videttes  replied 
by  crying  "  To  arms !  " 

"  To  horse  !"  cried  the  captain,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

In  a  moment  the  troopers  were  in  the  saddle.  The  unlucky  mender 
of  holes  was  guide  of  the  first  rank,  and,  having  no  time  to  turn  his 
breeches,  alas !  he  was  forced  to  put  them  on  wrong  side  outwards, 
and,  without  having  time  to  put  on  his  boots,  he  leaped  on  his  horse. 

A  party  of  Cossacks,  profiting  by  the  shelter  of  a  wood  close  at 
hand,  had  tried  to  surprise  the  detachment.  The  encounter  was 
bloody.  Our  soldier  foamed  with  rage,  for  he  was  very  tenacious  of 
his  property,  and  the  day  was  an  unlucky  one  for  him, —  his  breeches 
torn  and  his  boots  lost !  and  he  therefore  cut  and  slashed  away  with 
fury,  a  splendid  moonlight  lending  its  aid.  All  the  company  were  in 
admiration  of  the  valour  of  the  grenadier,  who  killed  two  Cossacks 
and  took  an  officer  prisoner  with  his  own  hand. 

After  this  skirmish,  in  which  the  detachment  preserved  its  position, 
the  captain  drew  up  his  men  in  line  to  compliment  them  publicly  on 
their  good  behaviour.  Our  man  would  fain  have  been  without  this 
oration,  but  was  compelled  to  obey  the  order. 

We  may  imagine  the  surprise  of  the  captain  and  his  troopers  when 
they  saw  the  tall  and  stern  figure  advance  at  a  foot's  pace  on  his  horse 
with  his  naked  feet  in  his  stirrups,  and  pressing  his  horse  with  limbs 
equally  denuded. 

The  captain,  much  astonished,  approached  him;  but,  remembering 
the  soldier's  occupation  at  the  instant  of  the  cry  to  arms,  he  understood 
the  whole  affair. 

"  Ah,  ah!  old  campaigner  1"  said  he,  "  you  were  like  King  Dago- 
bert,  were  you  ?  you  put  on  your  breeches  wrong  side  outwards  !" 

In  spite  of  discipline,  ill-repressed  shouts  of  laughter  hailed  this 
speech  of  the  captain.  Our  man,  erect  in  his  scat,  with  his  left  thumb 
at  the  right  point  of  his  accurately  adjusted  bridle,  the  handle  of  his 
sabre  leaning  on  his  right  thigh,  kept  his  immovable  gravity,  and, 
in. iking  his  half  circle,  regained  his  rank  without  moving  his  eyelid, 
after  having  received  the  congratulations  of  his  captain.  From  tluit 
day  forward  Francois  Baudoin  received  and  retained  the  surname  of 
Dagobert. 

Dagobert  was  then  in  the  porch  of  the  inn,  employed  in  washing, 
to  the  great  marvel  of  several  beer-drinkers,  who,  from  the  taproom  in 
which  they  were  boozing,  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  eye. 


24  U1K  WANDERING  JEW. 

To  say  truth,  it  was  rather  an  odd  sight. 

Dagobcrt  had  taken  oil'  his  grey  great-coat,  and  turned  up  the 
sleeves  of  his  shirt ;  with  a  vigorous  hand  he  was  rubbing  soap  into  a 
small  pocket-handkerchief  spread  on  a  board,  one  end  of  which  in- 
clined in  a  but  full  of  water;  on  his  right  arm,  tattooed  with  warlike 
emblems  in  red  and  blue,  there  were  two  cicatrices  so  deep  that  a 
finger  could  be  laid  in  them. 

The  Germans  who  were  drinking  beer  and  smoking  their  pipes 
might  well  be  surprised  at  the  singular  employment  of  this  tall  old 
man,  with  long  moustaches,  bald  head,  and  forbidding  look,  for  the 
features  of  Dagobert  were  harsh  and  repulsive  when  he  was  not  in  the 
company  of  the  two  young  girls. 

The  perpetual  notice  of  which  he  found  himself  the  object  began 
to  annoy  him  exceedingly,  for  he  thought  he  was  occupied  in  the 
simplest  employment  possible. 

At  this  moment  the  prophet  entered  the  porch  :  he  looked  stead- 
fastly at  the  soldier  for  some  time,  then  approaching  him  he  said,  in 
French,  and  in  a  somewhat  contemptuous  tone,  "  Comrade,  it  seems 
that  you  have  not  much  confidence  in  the  washerwomen  of  Mockern  ?" 

Dagobert,  without  ceasing  from  his  washing,  frowned,  turned  his 
head  half  round,  cast  a  peculiar  look  at  the  prophet,  but  made  him  no 
answer. 

Surprised  at  his  silence,  Morok  said,  "  I  am  not  mistaken,  you 
are  a  Frenchman,  my  fine  fellow ;  the  words  tattooed  in  your  arm 
prove  that,  and  your  military  figure  testifies  that  you  are  an  old 
soldier  of  the  empire;  I  think,  then,  that  for  a  hero  you  end  rather 
with  the  distaff." 

Dagobert  remained  still  silent,  but  he  bit  his  moustache  with  his 
teeth,  and  squeezed  tightly  a  bit  of  soap  with  which  he  was  washing 
the  pocket-handkerchief;  for  the  countenance  and  air  of  the  tamer 
of  beasts  were  displeasing  to  him,  though  he  was  unwilling  to  shew  his 
prejudice.  Nothing  abashed,  the  prophet  continued, — 

"  I  am  sure,  my  fine  fellow,  that  you  are  neither  deaf  nor  dumb, 
why,  then,  do  you  not  answer  me  ?" 

Dagobert,  losing  patience,  turned  round  abruptly,  looked  Morok 
full  in  the  face,  and  said,  with  a  brutal  tone, — 

"  I  do  not  know  you— I  do  not  wish  to  know  you — let  me  be 
quiet ;"  and  he  resumed  his  occupation. 

"  But  we  may  make  acquaintance  by  drinking  a  glass  of  Rhenish 
wine  together.  We  can  talk  of  our  campaigns,  for  I  have  seen  the 
wars  myself,  I  can  tell  you,  and  that,  perhaps,  may  make  you  a  little 
more  civil." 

The  veins  in  Dagobert's  bald  forehead  swelled  almost  to  bursting : 
he  saw  in  the  look  and  tone  of  this  impertinent  intruder  the  desire  and 
intention  to  provoke  him, — still  he  restrained  himself. 

"  I  ask  you  why  you  will  not  drink  a  cup  of  wine  with  me,  whilst 
we  have  a  talk  about  France.  I  was  there  once  for  a  long  time,  and  a 
beautiful  country  it  is.  When  I  meet  with  a  Frenchman  any  where  I 
am  delighted — particularly  if  he  uses  soap  as  skilfully  as  you  do  ;  if  I 
kept  a  housekeeper  I  should  certainly  send  her  to  you  to  take  a  few 
lessons." 

The  sarcastic  accent  was  no  longer  disguised, — insolence  and  bravado 


DAGOBERT     WASHING. 


London  :  Chapman  anJ  Hall.     April  1.  lH4j. 


MOUOK  AND  DAGOBERT.  25 

were  openly  displayed  in  the  impertinent  demeanour  and  tone  of  the 
prophet.  Dagobert,  perceiving  that  with  such  an  opponent  the  quarrol 
might  become  serious,  and  desiring  under  every  provocation  to  avoid 
it,  lifted  his  tub  in  his  arms,  and  betook  himself  to  the  other  end  of  the 
porch,  hoping  by  this  expedient  to  put  an  end  to  a  scene  which  tried 
his  forbearance  to  the  uttermost. 

The  savage  eyes  of  the  tamer  of  beasts  sparkled  with  pleasure. 
The  white  ring  which  encircled  his  eyeballs  seemed  to  expand,  and, 
thrusting  his  crooked  fingers  twice  or  thrice  into  his  long  and  cane- 
coloured  beard  with  a  gesture  of  satisfaction,  he  again  approached 
the  soldier,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  idle  gapers  from  the  tap- 
room. 

In  spite  of  his  natural  phlegm,  Dagobert,  surprised  and  annoyed 
at  the  impertinent  attack  of  the  prophet,  had  hastily  resolved  to  knock 
him  down  with  the  piece  of  wood  he  held  in  his  hand,  but  when  he 
remembered  the  orphan  girls  he  curbed  his  irritable  feeling. 

Morok  crossing  his  arms  on  his  chest,  said  to  him,  in  a  dry  and 
insolent  tone, — 

"  Most  assuredly  you  are  not  a  very  polite  person,  man  of  soap !" 
then  turning  to  the  grinning  bystanders,  he  continued  in  German,  "  I 
was  saying  to  this  Frenchman  with  long  moustachios  that  he  is  by  no 
means  polite,  we  shall  see  what  his  reply  will  be  ;  it  may  be  requisite; 
to  give  him  a  lesson, — though  Heaven  preserve  me  from  being  quarrel- 
some," he  added,  with  affected  compunction  ;  "  but  the  Lord  has 
enlightened  me,  I  am  His  work,  and  out  of  respect  to  Him  I  must 
make  His  work  respected." 

This  mystic  and  daring  peroration  was  very  much  to  the  taste  of 
the  listeners.  The  prophet's  reputation  had  reached  as  far  as  Mockern, 
and  as  they  were  anxiously  awaiting  his  exhibition  on  the  morrow, 
they  relished  this  prelude  the  more  strongly. 

When  Dagobert  heard  this  provocation  on  the  part  of  his  adversary, 
he  could  not  refrain  from  saying,  in  German,  "  I  understand  German  ; 
so  go  on  in  German,  and  they  will  know  what  you  say." 

Other  spectators  now  arrived,  and  so  great  interest  was  excited 
that  they  formed  a  circle  around  the  two  principal  actors  in  this  scene. 

The  prophet  replied  in  German, 

"  I  said  you  were  not  polite,  and  I  can  say  that  you  are  grossly 
impertinent.  What  i»your  reply  to  this  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  Dagobert,  as  he  began  busily  to  soap  another 
article  of  linen. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Morok,  "  that's  concise  enough;  but  I'll  be 
as  brief  as  himself,  and  I  tell  you  that  when  an  honest  man  foolishly 
offers  a  glass  of  wine  to  a  stranger,  that  that  stranger  has  no  right  to 
make  an  insolent  retort,  and  deserves  that  he  should  be  taught  a  sharp 
lesson  in  the  art  of  good  manners." 

Heavy  drops  of  perspiration  streamed  down  the  forehead  and  cheeks 
of  Dagobert,  his  massy  imperial  moved  up  and  down  with  nervous 
excitement ;  but  he  still  commanded  his  temper,  and  taking  the  two 
ends  of  the  handkerchief,  which  he  had  rinsed  in  the  water,  he  shook  it, 
then  twisted  it  to  squeeze  out  the  water,  and  began  to  hum  the  old 
campaigning  song :— 


26  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Do  Tirlemont,  tandion  du  diable, 
Nous  partirons  demaiu  matin, 
Le  sabre  en  main 
Pisunt  adieu  a,"  &c.  &c. 

(We  suppress  the  end  of  the  couplet,  which  is  rather  too  free  for 
any  place  beyond  the  barrack-room.) 

The  silence  which  Dagobert  prescribed  to  himself  had  half-choked 
him,  but  this  ditty  was  a  kind  of  safety-valve  for  him.  Morok,  turn- 
ing towards  the  spectators,  said  to  them,  with  an  air  of  hypocritical 
restraint, — 

"  We  know  very  well  that  the  soldiers  of  Napoleon  were  heathens, 
who  stabled  their  horses  in  churches,  who  offended  the  Lord  a  hundred 
times  a-day,  and  who  were  justly  rewarded  by  being  drowned  and 
destroyed  in  the  Beresina,  like  the  Pharaohs  of  old  ;  but  we  did  not 
know  that  the  Lord,  to  punish  these  miscreants,  had  deprived  them  of 
their  only  quality,  their  courage!  Here  is  a  man  who,  in  me,  has 
insulted  a  creature  touched  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  he  pretends  that 
he  does  not  understand  that  I  require  an  apology  at  his  hands  ;  or  if 
not " 

"  If  not,"  said  Dagobert,  without  looking  at  the  prophet. 

"  If  not,  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction.  I  told  you  that  I,  too, 
have  been  in  the  wars.  We  can  find  somewhere  a  couple  of  sabres, 
and  to-morrow  morning,  at  daybreak,  behind  some  wall,  we  may 
discover  the  colour  of  each  other's  blood — that  is,  if  you  have  any  in 
your  veins." 

This  open  declaration  of  hostility  began  somewhat  to  frighten  the 
spectators,  who  had  not  expected  so  tragic  a  finale. 

"You  fight?  What  an  idea!"  exclaimed  one;  "Why,  you'll 
both  get  locked  up — the  laws  against  duelling  are  very  severe." 

"  Especially  with  persons  of  low  rank  or  strangers,"  added  an- 
other. "  If  you  are  taken,  weapon  in  hand,  the  burgomaster  will  put 
you  in  the  cage,  and  you  will  have  two  or  three  months'  imprisonment 
before  sentence  is  passed  on  you." 

"  Are  you,  then,  the  persons  to  go  and  inform  against  us  ?"  asked 
Morok. 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  said  the  citizens ;  "  do  as  you  wish — we 
only  advise  you  as  friends  ;  but  do  as  you  like,  it's  no  affair  of  ours." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  a  prison?"  exclaimed  the  prophet.  "  Only 
let  me  find  a  couple  of  swords,  and  to-morrow  morning  shall  shew 
whether  or  not  I  care  for  what  the  burgomaster  may  say  or  do." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  two  swords?"  coolly  inquired 
Dagobert  of  the  prophet. 

"  When  you  have  one  in  your  hand,  and  I  have  the  other  in 
mine,  you  shall  see.  The  Lord  requires  that  His  honour  be  re- 
garded !" 

Dagobert  shrugged  his  shoulders,  put  his  linen  all  together  in  a 
handkerchief,  dried  his  piece  of  soap,  packed  it  carefully  in  a  little 
oil-skin  bag,  then  whistling  between  his  teeth  his  favourite  rondeau  of 
Tirlemont,  he  made  a  step  forward. 

The  prophet  frowned — he  began  to  fear  that  his  provocation  was 
ineffectual.  He  advanced  a  couple  of  paces  towards  Dagobert,  stood 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT.  27 

direct  before  him  as  though  to  bar  his  progress,  then  folding  his  arms 
across  his  chest  and  measuring  him,  with  an  insolent  air,  from  head 
to  foot,  he  said, — 

"  So  then  an  old  soldier  of  that  brigand,  Napoleon,  is  only  fit  to 
be  a  washerwoman — he  refuses  to  fight." 

"  Yes,  he  refuses  to  fight,"  replied  Dagobert,  with  a  firm  voice, 
but  turning  deathly  pale.  The  old  soldier  had  never  yet  given  to  the 
orphans  confided  to  his  guardianship  so  striking  a  proof  of  his  tender- 
ness and  devotion.  For  a  man  of  his  temper  to  allow  himself  to  be 
insulted  with  impunity,  and  to  refuse  to  fight,  was  an  incalculable 
sacrifice. 

"  Then  you  are  a  coward  —  you  are  afraid — and  you  confess 
it " 

At  this  word,  Dagobert  made,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  a 
mental  summersault,  as  though,  when  at  the  instant  he  was  about  to 
spring  at  the  prophet,  a  sudden  thought  had  restrained  him. 

He  thought  at  the  moment  of  the  two  young  girls,  and  the  fearful 
consequences  which  a  duel,  whether  fortunate  or  unfortunate  for  him 
individually,  must  entail  on  their  journey. 

But  this  moment  of  anger  in  the  soldier,  rapid  as  it  was,  was  so 
significant — the  expression  of  his  rude  features,  pale  and  bathed  in 
sweat,  was  so  terrible  that  the  prophet  and  the  lookers-on  receded  a 
step. 

A  perfect  silence  reigned  for  several  seconds,  and  then,  by  a  sudden 
revulsion,  a  general  feeling  arose  in  Dagobert's  favour.  One  of  the 
bystanders  said  to  those  near  him, 

"  I  don't  believe  the  man  is  a  coward !" 

"No  more  don't  I!" 

"  It  sometimes  requires  more  courage  to  refuse  a  challenge  than  to 
fight  a  duel." 

"And  the  prophet  was  wrong  to  try  and  provoke  him;  —  he's  a 
stranger." 

"  And  if  a  stranger  fights  and  gets  apprehended,  he  would  have  a 
long  imprisonment." 

"  And  then,"  added  another,  "  he's  travelling  with  two  young  girls, 
and  that's  a  reason  why  he  should  not  fight.  If  he  were  killed,  or 
taken  prisoner,  what  would  become  of  those  poor  children,  I  should 
like  to  know?" 

Dagobert  turned  to  the  individual  who  uttered  these  words,  and 
saw  a  stout  man  with  a  free,  good-tempered  countenance.  The  soldier 
held  out  his  hand  to  him,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  emotion, 

"  Thank  you,  sir  !" 

The  German  cordially  shook  the  hand  which  Dagobert  extended  to 
him. 

"  Sir,"  he  added,  still  retaining  his  grasp  of  the  veteran's  hand,  "do 
this :  accept  of  a  bowl  of  punch  with  us,  and  we  will  compel  this 
devil  of  a  prophet  to  confess  that  he  has  been  too  hasty,  and  to  pledge 
you  in  a  bumper." 

Up  to  this  time  the  tamer  of  beasts,  giving  up  in  despair  his  idea 
of  provoking  the  soldier  to  fight,  had  scowled  sulkily  on  those  who  had 
forsaken  him,  but  now  his  features  gradually  cleared  up;  and  thinking 


28  -1111     '.VANDEniNG  JEW. 

it  most  serviceable  to  his  projects  to  conceal  his  discomfiture,  he  made 
a  step  towards  the  soldier,  and  said  to  him  with  an  air  of  composure 
and  easy  u^u  ranee, 

"  Well,  be  it  so.  I  accede  to  the  proposition  of  these  gentlemen, 
and  confess  I  was  wrong.  Your  behaviour  wounded  me,  and  I  was 
not  master  of  myself.  I  repeat  I  was  wrong,"  he  added,  with  ill- 
disguised  rage ;  "  the  Lord  commands  humility,  and  I  request  your 
pardon." 

This  testimony  of  moderation  and  repentance  was  greatly  applauded, 
and  highly  appreciated  by  the  spectators. 

"  He  asks  your  pardon,  and  now  you  can't  bear  him  any  spite, 
man  brave,"  said  one  of  the  party,  addressing  Dagobert.  "  Come  and 
take  a  glass  with  him.  We  offer  you  the  bowl  with  good-will,  and  you 
should  accept  it  as  heartily." 

"  Yes  !  accept  it,  we  beg  of  you,  in  the  name  of  your  pretty  little 
maidens,"  said  the  stout  man,  wishing  Dagobert  to  comply.  He,  much 
moved  by  the  candid  advances  of  the  Germans,  replied,  '•  Thanks, 
gentlemen  ;  you  are  very  kind.  But  when  a  man  accepts  a  cup,  he 
must  offer  one  in  his  turn." 

"To  be  sure,  and  we'll  do  so  with  pleasure,  every  one  in  his 
turn  ; — that's  the  right  thing.  We'll  pay  the  first  bowl,  and  you  the 
second." 

"  Poverty  is  not  vice,"  replied  Dagobert ;  "  and  so  I  tell  you  fairly 
that  I  have  not  the  means  of  offering-  you  a  bowl  in  my  turn.  We 
have  yet  a  long  journey  before  us,  and  I  must  not  lay  out  an  unneces- 
sary farthing." 

The  soldier  said  these  words  with  so  much  simple  but  firm  dignity, 
that  the  Germans  did  not  venture  to  press  their  offer,  understanding 
that  a  man  of  Dagobert's  character  could  not  accept  without  humilia- 
tion. 

"  Ah !  well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  stout  man.  "  I  should  have  liked 
to  have  had  a  glass  with  you  very  much ;  but,  as  it  is,  good  night,  my 
brave  boy — good  night.  It  is  growing  late,  and  the  landlord  of  the 
White  Falcon  will  be  for  turning  us  out." 

"  Good  night,  gentlemen,"  said  Dagobert,  going  towards  the  stables 
to  give  his  horse  his  second  feed. 

Morok  approached  him,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  extreme  humility, 

"  I  own  how  much  I  was  in  the  wrong,  and  I  have  asked  your 
pardon.  You  have  not  replied.  Are  you  still  incensed  against  me  ?" 

"  If  we  should  meet  again  some  day,  when  my  children  do  not 
need  my  protection,"  said  the  old  soldier  in  a  deep  and  suppressed 
voice,  "  I  will  have  two  words  with  you,  and  they  shall  not  be  long 
ones." 

So  saying,  he  turned  his  back  abruptly  on  the  prophet,  who  slowly 
left  the  courtyard. 

The  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  formed  a  parallelogram.  At  one 
extremity  was  the  main  building,  at  the  other  some  smaller  buildings, 
containing  several  apartments  let  out  at  low  prices  to  poor  wayfarers. 
A  vaulted  passage  was  formed  in  the  centre  of  these  latter  which  looked 
on  to  the  country.  On  each  side  of  the  courtyard  were  stables  and 
sheds,  over  which  were  granaries  and  lofts. 


MOROK  AND  DAGOBERT.  29 

Dagobert,  going  into  one  of  the  stables,  took  from  a  bin  a  measure 
of  oats  ready  for  his  horse,  and  pouring  it  into  a  sieve,  shook  it  as  he 
approached  Jovial. 

To  his  extreme  astonishment,  his  old  travelling  companion  did  not 
reply  by  his  accustomed  joyful  whining  at  hearing  the  oats  in  the 
sieve.  He  was  amazed,  and  spake  to  Jovial  in  his  usual  amicable 
tone  ;  but  the  good  beast,  instead  of  turning  to  his  master  with  his 
intelligent  eye,  and  pawing,  as  usual,  with  his  feet,  remained  motion- 
less. Still  more  astonished,  the  soldier  went  up  to  him. 

By  the  dim  light  of  a  stable  lantern  he  saw  the  poor  animal  in  a 
state  which  betokened  extreme  fear — his  limbs  crouched,  his  head  in 
the  air,  his  ears  bent  back,  his  nostrils  expanded,  whilst  his  halter  was 
stretched  out  to  its  full  length  as  though  he  sought  to  break  it  in  order 
to  escape  from  the  partition  to  which  his  rack  and  manger  were 
affixed  ;  a  cold  and  excessive  sweat  soaked  through  his  light  blue 
body-cloth,  and  his  coat,  instead  of  being  silky  and  mottled  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  stable,  stood  on  end  stiff  and  bristly,  whilst  every 
now  and  then  his  whole  frame  was  shaken  as  if  in  convulsions. 

"  Soh !  soh !  old  Jovial,"  said  the  trooper,  putting  the  sieve  on  the 
ground  to  pat  his  horse  :  "  what,  afraid,  like  your  master,"  he  added, 
with  a  bitter  tone,  suggested  by  his  recent  insult ;  "  what,  frightened, 
boy,  frightened  —  you,  who  are  not  usually  a  coward  !  " 

Despite  the  caresses  and  voice  of  his  master,  the  steed  continued  to 
evince  signs  of  fright.  However,  his  halter  became  less  extended,  and 
he  smelled  Dagobert's  hand  with  hesitation,  snorting  violently,  as  if 
doubting  his  master's  identity. 

"  What !  don't  you  know  me! "  exclaimed  Dagobert :  "  then  some- 
thing very  wonderful  must  have  happened." 

And  the  old  soldier  gazed  about  him  with  much  uneasiness. 

The  stable  was  spacious,  dark,  and  but  dimly  lighted  by  a  lantern 
hanging  from  the  ceiling,  richly  festooned  with  accumulated  and  iindis- 
turbed  cobwebs.  At  the  other  end,  and  separated  from  Jovial  by  some 
places  marked  with  bars,  ware  the  three  powerful  black  horses  of  the 
trainer  of  beasts,  who  were  as  quiet  as  Jovial  was  trembling  and 
affrighted. 

Dagobert,  struck  by  the  singular  contrast  (soon  to  be  explained), 
again  patted  and  encouraged  his  horse,  who,  gradually  reassured  by 
the  presence  of  his  master,  licked  his  hands,  rubbed  his  head  against 
him,  and  evinced  a  thousand  other  tokens  of  attachment. 

«'  Come,  come,  old  man — that's  right— that's  the  way  I  like  to  see 
you,  my  loving  Jovial,"  said  Dagobert,  taking  up  the  sieve  and  pouring 
its  contents  into  the  manger.  "  Come,  boy,  eat — eat,  for  we  have  a  long 
march  before  us  to-morrow.  I  mustn't  have  these  foolish  fancies  and 
frights.  If  Killjoy  were  here,  he  would  give  you  courage  ;  but  he  is 
up  in  the  room  with  the  children  :  he  is  their  guardian  in  my  absence. 
Come,  eat,  and  don't  keep  looking  at  me  so." 

But  the  good  steed,  after  having  moved  his  oats  about  with  his 
lips,  as  though  to  obey  his  master,  could  not  eat  them,  but  began  to 
nibble  the  sleeve  of  Dagobert's  great-coat. 

"  Jovial,  my  poor  fellow,  there's  something  wrong  with  you,  who 
generally  pick  up  your  feed  with  so  much  good-will  and  appetite ! 


30  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

What !  leave  your  oats,  and  for  the  first  time  that  that  has  occurred 
since  we  started  ! " 

The  veteran  said  this  with  an  air  of  real  anxiety,  for  the  result  of 
his  journey  depended  very  much  on  the  vigour  and  health  of  his  horse. 

A  horrid  roar,  so  near  that  it  seemed  to  issue  from  the  very  stable, 
so  completely  frightened  Jovial  that,  with  one  snap,  he  broke  the 
halter,  leaped  over  the  bar  of  his  stall,  and,  reaching  the  open  door, 
bounded  out  into  the  court-yard. 

Dagobert  himself  could  not  repress  a  start  at  this  sudden,  deep,  and 
savage  howl,  which  accounted  for  the  terror  of  his  horse. 

The  next  stable,  occupied  by  the  perambulating  menagerie  of  the 
trainer  of  beasts,  was  only  separated  by  the  partition  wall  to  which  the 
manger  was  attached, — the  prophet's  three  horses,  used  to  these  roar- 
ings, remained  perfectly  tranquil. 

"  Ah,  ah,"  said  the  soldier,  reassured,  "  now  I  find  what  it  is.  No 
doubt  Jovial  had  before  heard  these  roars.  He  smelt  the  animals  of 
that  impudent  vagabond,  and  they  were  quite  enough  to  frighten  him," 
added  the  veteran,  carefully  gathering  up  the  oats  from  the  manger. 
"  Once  in  another  stable — and  there  ought  to  be  some  empty  ones — 
he  will  not  leave  his  feed,  and  we  will  make  an  early  move  of  it  in  the 
morning." 

The  affrighted  charger  having  run  and  jumped  about  the  court- 
yard, came  up  to  his  master  at  his  call,  and  Dagobert,  taking  him  by 
his  headstall,  led  him  to  another  single-stall  stable,  which  a  hostler 
pointed  out  to  him,  and  there  Jovial  was  comfortably  installed. 

Once  removed  from  his  vicinity  to  the  wild  beasts,  the  old  horse 
became  tranquillised,  and  even  frisked  a  little  at  the  expense  of  Dago- 
bert's  great-coat,  who,  thanks  to  these  small  jokes,  had  a  job  in  the 
tailoring  line  cut  out  for  him  that  very  night  if  he  so  pleased  ;  but  he 
was  only  engaged  in  admiring  the  alacrity  witli  which  Jovial  ate  his 
provender. 

Completely  recovered,  the  soldier  shut  the  door  of  the  stable,  and 
hastened  to  his  supper,  that  he  might  rejoin  the  orphans,  reproaching 
himself  with  having  left  them  so  long  alone. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROSE  AND  BLANCHE. 

THE  orphans  occupied,  in  the  most  distant  part  of  the  inn,  a  small 
dilapidated  chamber,  whose  only  window  looked  out  on  the  country ; 
a  bed  without  curtains,  a  table,  and  two  chairs,  completed  the  more 
than  scanty  furnishing  of  the  humble  apartment,  lighted  only  by  a 
small  lamp  ;  on  the  table  near  the  casement  was  deposited  the  wallet 
of  Dagobert.  The  huge  Siberian  dog,  Killjoy,  stretched  at  the  en- 
trance-door, had  already  uttered  several  deep  angry  growls,  without 
any  further  manifestation  of  impending  danger. 

The  sisters,  partially  reclining  on  their  lowly  pallet,  were  clad  in 


"Ill  ' 


ROSE    AND    BLANCHE. 

p.  n. 


London:  Chapman  *nd  Hall.     March  I,  Is-t.'i 


ROSE  AWD  BLANCHE.  31 

long  white  wrapping  gowns,  fastened  at  the  neck  and  wrists.  They  wore 
no  covering  on  their  heads,  save  a  broad  fillet,  which  confined  their 
rich  chestnut  hair  and  prevented  the  long  flowing  tresses  from  disturb- 
ing their  slumbers.  Their  snowy  vestments,  with  the  white  circlet 
round  their  brows,  gave  to  the  young  and  innocent  countenances  of 
the  sisters  a  still  greater  charm. 

Spite  of  their  early  troubles,  the  orphans  prattled  merrily,  with  all 
the  light-heartedness  of  their  age  ;  for  though  the  loss  of  their  beloved 
mother  occasionally  sent  a  gloom  over  their  countenances,  it  was  still 
a  pensive  sorrow  they  rather  sought  than  avoided  :  to  their  tender, 
loving  imaginations  their  adored  parent  was  not  dead  (for  death  was 
beyond  their  comprehension),  but  merely  absent  for  a  time. 

Almost  as  ignorant  as  Dagobert  of  religious  forms  (for,  in  the 
wilderness  in  which  they  had  dwelt,  there  was  neither  priest  nor  sacred 
edifice),  they  yet  firmly  believed,  as  they  had  been  told,  that  a  merciful, 
gracious  God,  beholding  from  afar  the  heart-stricken  grief  of  a  mother 
compelled  to  leave  her  dear  children  on  earth,  would  from  on  high 
permit  her  to  behold  them,  and  to  hear  their  voices,  and  still  farther, 
bestow  on  her  the  blessed  privilege  of  for  ever  watching,  like  a  guardian 
angel,  over  her  cherished  ones. 

Thanks  to  this  simple  yet  pure  illusion,  the  orphans,  persuaded 
that  their  mother  incessantly  beheld  them,  would  have  died  rather 
than,  by  word  or  deed,  have  pained  their  idolised  parent,  or  induced 
an  indulgent  Deity  to  withdraw  from  them  her  watchful  care. 

And  this  train  of  reasoning  formed  the  whole  stock  of  theological 
knowledge  possessed  by  Rose  and  Blanche,  but  which  was  in  itself 
abundantly  sufficient  to  satisfy  their  innocent  and  affectionate  souls. 

Such  as  we  have  described  them,  the  two  sisters  were  discoursing 
together  while  awaiting  the  return  of  Dagobert. 

Their  conversation  was  deeply  interesting,  for  it  referred  to  a  matter 
of  deep  interest.  Moreover,  a  secret  so  weighty  and  important  as  to 
quicken  from  time  to  time  the  pulsations  of  their  young  hearts,  cause 
their  tender  bosoms  to  heave  with  a  hasty  throb,  and  send  a  deeper 
colour  to  their  delicate  cheeks,  while  a  thoughtful  and  uneasy  languor 
weighed  down  the  lids  of  their  clear  blue  eyes. 

Rose,  on  this  occasion,  occupied  the  outer  side  of  the  bed.  Her 
fair  rounded  arms  were  placed  beneath  her  head,  which  was  half  turned 
towards  her  sister,  who,  leaning  on  her  elbow  and  smiling  sweetly, 
inquired, 

'  Do  you  think  he  will  come  again  to-night  ?" 
'  Oh,  yes  !  for  yesterday,  you  know,  he  promised  it." 
'  And  he  is  too  good  to  forget  his  promise." 
'  And  so  handsome,  too,  with  those  beautiful  light  curls  ! " 
'  And  so  sweet  a  name,  just  suited  to  himself!     Is  it  not,  dear 
sister?" 

"  Oh,  quite  !  Did  you  ever  see  so  charming  a  smile  ?  With  how 
kind  and  tender  a  voice  he  spoke  when,  taking  a  hand  of  each,  he  said, 
'  My  children,  bless  God  for  having  bestowed  on  you  one  mind  ! 
That  which  others  seek  elsewhere,  you  will  always  find  within  your- 
selves; because,'  added  he,  'you  are  one  heart  in  two  bodies.'  " 

"  Dear  sister,  how  glad  I  am  we  can  so  perfectly  recollect  every 
little  word  he  said ! " 


32  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  We  could  not  fail  doing  so,  when  we  each  listened  so  eagerly 
and  attentively;  and  when  you,  dear  sister,  were  listening  to  his 
discourse,  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  my  ears,  too,  drank  in  his  charm- 
ing words,"  said  Rose,  smiling,  and  affectionately  kissing  the  forehead 
of  Blanche  ;  "  and  when  he  spoke,  your  eyes,  or  rather  our  eyes,  were 
wide,  wide  open,  and  our  lips  moved,  as  though  repeating  each  word 
after  him.  So  how  could  we  possibly  lose  one  dear  word  ?" 

"  Words,  too,  so  noble — so  generous — so  beautifully  spoken!" 

"  And  did  you  not  find,  dearest  sister,  that  while  he  spoke  our 
hearts  expanded  within  our  bosoms  as  though  scarcely  large  enough  to 
contain  all  the  great  and  virtuous  thoughts  that  filled  them,  as  though 
intended  to  remain  there  for  our  future  meditation  and  delightful 
converse  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  not  one  precious  counsel  will  be  forgotten  ;  no  word 
but  will  be  safely  harboured  in  our  hearts,  like  young  birds  in  the 
soft  nest  of  their  mother." 

'«  How  delightful  it  is,  Rose,  that  he  should  equally  love  us  both  !" 

"  Nay,  my  Blanche,  it  could  not  be  otherwise,  there  being  but  one 
heart — one  love — between  us.  How  could  he  love  Rose  without  her 
Blanche?" 

"  Or  what  would  have  become  of  the  poor  rejected  one  ?" 

"  And  besides,  imagine  the  impossibility  of  choosing  between  us ! " 

"  We  are  so  exactly  alike  ! " 

"  So  to  spare  himself  so  difficult  a  task,"  said  Rose,  smiling,  "  he 
has  very  wisely  selected  us  both  ! " 

"  And  most  wisely,  too ;  for  now  he  has  but  one  to  love,  while  he 
has  two  to  love  him  ! " 

"  Let  us  hope  he  will  not  depart  from  us  ere  we  reach  Paris !  " 

"  Paris!     Surely  we  shall  see  him  there,  also  ?" 

"  No.doubt ;  for  'tis  there  his  presence  will  be  doubly  dear.  And 
with  him  and  Dagobert — oh!  my  sister,  how  happy  shall  we  be  in 
that  fine  city!" 

"  We  shall,  indeed !  I  picture  Paris  to  myself  as  all  built  with 
gold  and  glittering  with  precious  stones  ! " 

"  Then,  since  "it  is  so  beautiful  a  place,  all  who  dwell  there  must 
needs  be  happy?" 

"  And  then,  sister,  I  almost  fear  that  two  poor  orphans  such  as  we 
are  will  not  be  permitted  to  enter  it.  How  shall  we  venture  to  look 
all  these  great  and  rich  people  in  the  face  ?" 

"  But,  my  sister,  don't  you  think  that  since  every  one  in  Paris  is  so 
happy,  they  must  also  be  as  good  and  kind  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !     And  they  will  love  us  as  we  shall  love  them  ! " 

"  And  besides,  we  shall  have  our  dear  friend  with  the  light  hair  and 
blue  eyes  to  advise  and  encourage  us!" 

"  He  has  not  yet  mentioned  Paris  to  us  !" 

"  Probably  it  did  not  occur  to  him.  However,  we'll  speak  of  it 
to  him  to-night." 

"  If  he  seems  inclined  to  converse — not  else  ;  for  often,  you  know, 
he  appears  to  fix  his  eyes  steadfastly  upon  us,  and  continue  to  gaze  as 
though  he  were  filled  with  deep  thought  that  shut  out  conversation." 

"  And  at  these  moments  there  is  an  indescribable  something  about 
him  which  reminds  me  of  our  adored  mother." 


EOSE  AND  BLANCHE.  33 

"  And  since  that  beloved  parent  sees  from  above  all  that  befalls  us, 
how  delighted  must  she  be  at  what  has  occurred  !" 

"  Because  we  should  not  be  loved  as  we  arc  if  we  did  not  de- 
serve it." 

"  Little  vain  thing!"  said  Blanche,  putting  back  with  her  delicate 
fingers  a  braid  of  her  sister's  rich  chestnut  hair  which  had  escaped 
from  its  simple  bandeau,  then,  gravely  reflecting  for  a  few  minutes, 
she  added, — 

"  Sister  dear!  do  you  not  think  we  ought  to  communicate  to  Da- 
gobert all  that  has  happened  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  if  you  consider  it  right." 

"  Yes,  we  will  tell  him  the  whole  affair  as  though  we  were  relating 
it  to  our  mother ;  why  should  we  conceal  any  thing  from  him  ?" 

"  Especially  a  matter  which  affords  us  both  such  happiness." 

"  Have  you  not  fancied  since  we  first  saw  our  dear  friend  that  our 
hearts  have  beaten  with  a  quicker  and  more  powerful  pulsation  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  have,  as  though  they  were  too  small  to  contain  the 
crowd  of  pleasing  thoughts  which  now  possess  them." 

"  And  because  our  dear  friend  occupies  so  large  a  place  in  them." 

"  So,  then,  we  will  inform  Dagobert  of  all  our  good  fortune  ;  will  it 
not  be  best,  dear  sister?" 

"  Much  best  and  quite  right,  since  you  think  so." 

At  this  moment  the  dog  growled  a  deep  note  of  approaching 
danger. 

"  Sister,"  said  Rose,  closely  pressing  towards  Blanche,  "  what  can 
cause  the  dog  to  growl  in  this  unusual  manner  ?" 

"  Kill-joy,  be  quiet!  —  leave  off  scolding,  and  come  here!"  ex- 
claimed Blanche,  patting  the  side  of  the  bed  with  her  small  hand. 
The  dog  arose,  and,  still  growling  angrily,  came  and  placed  his  great 
intelligent-looking  head  on  the  counterpane,  still  keeping  his  eyes 
obstinately  fixed  on  the  window.  The  sisters,  by  way  of  calming  his 
uneasiness,  leaned  towards  him,  and  patted  and  caressed  his  large 
forehead,  in  the  middle  of  which  rose  the  protuberance  denoting  the 
fine  race  from  which  he  derived  his  origin. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  poor  fellow?"  said  Blanche,  softly 
smoothing  down  his  great  ears;  "what  makes  you  growl  so,  —  eh, 
Kill-joy  ?" 

"  Poor  thing  !  he  always  frets  when  Dagobert  is  away." 

"  Yes,  so  he  does  ;  he  appears  to  know  that  he  has  then  a  double 
watch  to  keep." 

"  Dagobert  seems  away  longer  than  usual  this  evening,  does  he 
not,  sister  ?" 

"  He  is  attending  to  Jovial,  no  doubt." 

"  And  that  reminds  me  we  forgot  to  bid  our  accustomed  '  good- 
night' to  our  faithful  Jovial." 

"  So  we  did  ;  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Dear  old  horse !  he  always  seems  so  pleased  to  see  us,  and  licks 
our  hands  so  kindly  ;  he  appears  as  though  thanking  us  for  going  to 
see  him  the  last  thing." 

"  Fortunately  Dagobert  will  be  sure  to  bid  him  good-night 
for  us." 

"Good,  excellent  Pagobert!   ahyaya  thinking  of  us — he  quite 

3.  5 


34  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

spoils  us,  and  makes  us  idle.  We  do  nothing,  while  he  is  always 
toiling." 

"  But  how  can  we  possibly  hinder  him  ?" 

"  What  a  pity  we  are  not  rich  that  we  might  obtain  him  a  little 
rest !" 

"Ah!  dear  sister,  we  shall  never  have  that  happiness,  —  we  are 
poor  orphans,  and  must  ever  remain  so." 

"  But  our  medal?" 

"  Has  no  doubt  some  great  power  attached  to  it,  otherwise  we 
should  not  have  undertaken  this  long  journey." 

"  Dagobert  has  promised  to  tell  us  all  this  evening." 

Ere  the  young  girl  could  proceed  two  panes  of  glass  in  their  win- 
dow were  dashed  to  pieces  with  a  loud  noise. 

The  orphans,  screaming  with  affright,  threw  themselves  into  each 
others'  arms,  while  the  dog,  barking  furiously,  rushed  towards  the 
broken  casement. 

Pale,  speechless,  and  trembling,  holding  each  other  in  a  convul- 
sive grasp,  the  sisters  scarcely  ventured  to  breathe,  while  the  dog, 
standing  erect,  his  forepaws  resting  on  the  window-sill,  barked  in  the 
most  angry  and  determined  manner. 

The  two  sisters,  whose  extreme  terror  prevented  their  even  venturing 
to  look  towards  the  scene  of  alarm,  at  length  found  words  to  exclaim, — 

"  What  can  this  be?  —  why  is  not  Dagobert  here  to  save  and  to 
protect  us  ?  " 

All  at  once  Rose,  seizing  the  arm  of  Blanche,  exclaimed, 
"  Sister  !  listen  ! — some  person  is  ascending  the  staircase !  " 

"That  it  is  not  Dagobert's  step,  —  it  is  far  too  heavy.  Hark! 
how  heavily  it  comes ! " 

"  Here,  here,  Kill-joy! — my  good  dog — come  to  us — save  us  ! — 
save  us !  "  cried  the  sisters,  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

Steps  of  extraordinary  heaviness  were  heard  slowly  ascending 
the  wooden  stairs,  which  creaked  beneath  the  ponderous  body  they 
could  barely  support,  and  then  ^\  singular  species  of  rustling  was 
heard  along  the  slight  partition  which  separated  their  chamber  from  the 
staircase,  till  a  heavy  weight,  falling  against  their  door,  shook  it  vio- 
lently, and  threatened  destruction  to  the  frail  materials  of  which  it 
was  composed.  Terrified  beyond  the  power  of  uttering  a  word,  the 
two  poor  girls  mutely  sought  in  each  other's  looks  a  gleam  of  hope  or 
comfort.  At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Dagobert  entered. 

At  his  welcome  sight  Blanche  and  Rose  embraced  each  other  as 
though  all  danger  were  over. 

"What  has  disturbed  you,  my  children?  why  this  alarm?"  in- 
quired the  soldier,  with  extreme  surprise. 

"Oh!"  said  Rose,  almost  gasping  for  breath,  "  if  you  did  but 
know " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Blanche,  who  could  distinctly  feel  the  rapid 
throb  of  her  sister's  heart  keep  pace  with  the  troubled  beat  of  her  own, 
— "  if  you  only  knew  what  has  just  happened  !  We  did  not  recog- 
nise your  step  just  now — it  seemed  far  too  heavy;  and  then  that 
noise  against  the  wainscot." 

"  \\'liy,  you  frightened  little  dears!  I  could  not  ascend  the  stair- 
case with  the  lightness  of  fifteen  years,  having  my  bed  to  carry  up 


ROSE  AND  BLANCHE.  35 

with  me,  that  is  to  say  a  palliasse,  which  I  have  just  thrown  down  at 
your  door,  intending  to  take  up  my  lodging  there  as  usual." 

"To  be  sure!"  said  Rose,  looking  at  Blanche,  "that  was  it! 
How  very  stupid  of  us  not  to  think  it  must  be  you  carrying  your  bed  !" 

And  with  this  satisfactory  conclusion  of  their  terrors  the  counte- 
nance of  each  of  the  fair  girls  reassumed  the  bright  colour  which  ap- 
peared to  have  quite  forsaken  their  cheeks.  During  this  scene  the 
dog  neither  quitted  his  position  at  the  window,  nor  ceased  his  incessant 
and  furious  barking. 

"What  makes  Kill-joy  bark  so,  my  children?"  inquired  the  old 
soldier. 

"  Indeed,  we  cannot  tell  you  ;  some  one  has  broken  two  squares 
of  glass,  which  was  the  beginning  of  our  alarm." 

Without  answering  a  word,  Dagobert  hastened  to  the  window, 
opened  it  quickly,  pushed  back  the  curtains,  and  looked  out. 

Nothing  was  to  be  seen  or  heard,  a  darkness  like  that  of  night 
prevailed.  He  listened  attentively ;  all,  however,  was  still,  save  the 
dull  sobbing  of  the  night  wind.  He  called  the  dog, — "  Out  there,  old 
fellow  !"  cried  he,  shewing  the  window, — "  out  and  search  diligently  ! 
look  into  every  corner!" 

The  noble  animal,  obedient  to  his  word  and  animated  by  his 
voice,  cleared  at  one  bound  the  distance  from  the  ground,  which  could 
not  have  been  less  than  eight  feet,  and  disappeared  through  the  open 
space,  while  Dagobert,  still  looking  out,  excited  his  dog,  both  by 
speech  and  gesture,  to  keep  up  the  search. 

"  Go  seek !  go  seek,  my  fine  fellow  !  and  if  you  find  any  one,  hold 
him  tight,  —  your  teeth  are  strong  enough  to  hold  a  lion, — don't  let 
go  till  I  come." 

But  Kill-joy  found  no  one. 

Still  he  ran  to  and  fro,  as  though  on  the  scent  of  something  that 
had  not  long  since  passed,  and  occasionally  uttering  a  half-suppressed 
cry  like  that  of  a  dog  who  is  hunting  game,  and  begins  to  hope  he  is 
on  the  track. 

"  There  is  no  one  then,  old  boy,  I  am  sure,  for  if  there  had  been, 
you  would  have  pinned  them  to  the  earth  ere  this." 

Then  turning  to  the  young  girls,  who  were  following  his  move- 
ments and  listening  to  his  words  with  an  expression  of  uneasiness,  he 
exclaimed, — 

"  And  how  were  these  squares  of  glass  broken,  my  children  ? — were 
you  able  to  see  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Dagobert,  we  were  conversing  together  when  sud- 
denly the  glass  fell  into  the  room  with  a  loud  noise." 

"It  seemed  to  me,"  added  Rose,  "  as  though  a  shutter  had 
slammed  against  them  violently." 

Dagobert  closely  examined  the  outer  shutter  or  latticed  blind,  and 
discovered  a  long  projecting  hook  intended  for  the  purpose  of  fasten- 
ing it  withinside. 

"  The  wind  is  high  to-night,"  said  he,  "  and  has  most  probably 
blown  this  shutter  forcibly  against  the  glass,  which  has  been  broken 
by  the  iron  handle.  Yes,  yes,  that  must  be  it ;  besides,  what  interest 
can  any  person  have  in  doing  such  a  piece  of  mischief?"  Then 


36  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

speaking  to  Kill-joy,  he  added,  "  Come  in,  my  brave  fellow, — there  is 
nobody  there,  is  there  ?" 

The  dog  replied  by  a  low  growl,  interpreted  by  the  old  soldier  in 
the  negative,  as  he  immediately  answered, — 

"  Then  take  one  round  and  examine  every  part  of  the  premises, 
then  come  back,  your  door  will  be  open  ready  for  your  return,  so 
away  with  you  ! " 

The  sagacious  dog,  perfectly  comprehending  the  directions  given  to 
him,  departed  upon  his  mission  after  once  more  sniffing  eagerly  at  the 
window-sill,  then  ran  off  to  reconnoitre  the  buildings,  both  inside 
and  out. 

"  Come,  my  children,"  said  the  soldier,  returning  to  the  orphans, 
"  don't  be  alarmed." 

"  It  was  only  the  wind,"  said  Blanche,  smiling. 

"  But  it  frightened  us  sadly,  good  Dagobert,  it  did,  indeed," 
added  Rose. 

"  I  dare  say  it  did,  but  I  must  close  up  that  opening,  the  wind 
will  blow  in  else,"  said  the  soldier,  turning  towards  the  broken  window. 

After  looking  about  for  some  time  for  the  means  of  remedying  the 
mischief,  he  bethought  himself  of  the  pelisse  of  reindeer-skin,  which  he 
suspended  by  means  of  the  iron  rod  which  crossed  the  casement,  and 
with  the  thick  skirts  hermetically  stopped  the  opening  made  by  the 
broken  glass. 

"  Thank  you ! — thank  you  !  kind  Dagobert,  but  we  were  so  un- 
easy at  not  seeing  you  sooner." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Dagobert!  you  stayed  away  this  time  longer  than 
usual." 

Then  for  the  first  time  perceiving  the  paleness  and  agitation  of  the 
old  man,  whose  countenance  still  evinced  traces  of  the  powerful  ex- 
citement produced  by  his  late  rencontre  with  Morok,  Rose  con- 
tinued,— 

"  But  what  has  been  the  matter  ?     How  very  pale  you  are !" 

"Me!  my  children?  Oh  nothing — nothing.  What  can  possibly 
ail  me?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  Dagobert,  something  is  wrong  with  you  !  your 
countenance  is  quite  altered.  My  sister  is  right — surely  you  are 
not  ill?" 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  the  old  soldier,  with  considerable  em- 
barrassment, for  falsehood  was  a  hard  task  with  him,  "you  may  be 
assured  nothing  whatever  ails  me,  or  has  occurred;"  then,  as  if  he 
had  found  a  capital  pretext  for  his  disturbed  looks,  he  added,  "  Or  if, 
indeed,  there  be  any  thing  the  matter,  it  is  simply  my  uneasiness  at 
finding  you  so  much  alarmed,  because  it  has  all  happened  through 
me." 

"  Through  you  ?     Oh  no,  Dagobert ! " 

"  Yes,  if  I  had  not  lingered  so  over  my  supper,  I  should  have  been 
with  you  when  the  glass  was  broken,  and  have  prevented  your  ex- 
periencing the  degree  of  terror  it  caused  you." 

"  Then  don't  let  us  think  any  more  about  it.  And  will  you  not 
sit  down,  dear  Dagobert  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  children  ;  for  we  have  much  to  talk  about,"  replied  the 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE.  37 

old  man,  drawing  a  chair  beside  the  lowly  pillow  of  the  sisters. 
"  Now,  then,  are  you  quite  awake?"  said  he,  trying  by  an  affectation 
of  gaiety  to  dispel  their  recent  agitation.  "  Let  me  see  whether  those 
large  eyes  are  quite  open  or  not." 

"  Look,  Dagobert,  look  !"  said  the  sisters,  smiling  in  their  turn, 
and  opening  their  blue  eyes  full  upon  him. 

"  That  will  do,  young  ladies !"  said  Dagobert ;  "  but  we  must  not 
talk  too  long ;  however,  it  is  scarcely  nine  o'clock  at  present." 

"  We  have  something  also  to  tell  you,  Dagobert,"  replied  Rose, 
after  having  consulted  her  sister's  countenance. 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  something  to  tell  you  in  great  confidence  ! " 

"  In  great  confidence !" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  we  have !" 

"  A  secret  of  the  most  important  description,"  added  Rose,  with  a 
serious  look  and  manner. 

"  And  one  which  concerns  us  both  most  nearly,"  rejoined  Blanche. 

"To  be  sure,"  answered  the  soldier;  "  don't  I  know  that  what  con- 
cerns one  concerns  the  other  equally  ?  Are  you  not  always  two  faces 
under  a  hood?" 

"  Yes,  when  you  cover  our  two  heads  with  the  large  hood  of  the 
fur  pelisse,  then  we  are  indeed,"  said  Rose,  laughing  merrily. 

"  Why,  you  little  mocking-birds,  you  never  let  an  old  man  get  the 
last  word.  But  now,  then,  for  this  great  secret,  since  a  secret  there  is." 

"  Speak,  sister,"  said  Blanche, 

"  No,  no,  young  lady,  do  you  tell  the  tale.  You  are  to-day  com- 
mander of  the  platoon  and  senior  officer,  and  therefore  so  important 
a  matter  as  the  great  secret  you  have  to  disclose  devolves  by  right  on 
you.  Now,  then,  begin.  I  am  all  attention,"  said  the  old  soldier, 
striving  by  an  appearance  of  jocularity  to  conceal  from  his  young 
charges  how  sorely  his  chafed  spirit  still  writhed  beneath  the  aggrava- 
tions bestowed  on  him  by  the  brute-conqueror  Morok. 

Thus  directed,  Rose  as  leader  of  the  squadron,  as  Dagobert  styled 
her,  thus  spoke  for  her  sister  and  self. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MUTUAL   CONFIDENCE. 

"  Now,  dear  good  Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  with  an  air  of  charming 
ingenuousness,  "  as  we  are  going  to  tell  you  a  very  great  secret,  you 
must  first  promise  us  that  you  will  not  be  angry." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  added  Blanche,  in  a  tone  equally  deprecatory,  «'  you 
must  not  scold  your  children,  will  you  ?" 

"Granted,"  replied  Dagobert,  gravely,  "because  I  should  not 
know  how  to  do  it  even  if  I  were  so  inclined  ;  but  what  is  there  to  be 
angry  about  ?  " 


38  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Why,  perhaps,  we  ought  to  have  told  you  before  what  we  are 
going  to  inform  you  of  now." 

"  Listen,  my  dears,"  replied  Dagobert,  sententiously,  after  having 
turned  over  in  his  mind  for  a  moment  this  case  of  conscience,  "  one 
of  two  things  must  be;  either  you  are  right  or  wrong  in  concealing 
any  thing  from  me.  If  you  are  right,  why,  so  it  is ;  if  you  are  wrong, 
why,  it's  done,  and  there's  an  end  on't — let's  say  no  more  about  it. 
Now,  I  am  all  attention." 

Entirely  set  at  ease  in  their  minds  by  this  luminous  decision,  Rose 
and  her  sister  exchanged  a  smile,  and  the  former  resumed, — 

"  Dagobert,  only  imagine  that  for  two  nights  following  we  have 
had  a  visit." 

"  A  visit !"  and  the  soldier  drew  himself  up  erect  in  his  chair. 

"  Yes,  a  delightful  visit ;  for  he  is  fair." 

"  What  the  d — 1 ! — He  is  fair!"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  starting  up 
suddenly. 

"Fair,  with  blue  eyes,"  added  Blanche. 

The  deuce !  and  blue  eyes,  too  ;"  and  Dagobert  again  started. 
'  Yes,  blue  eyes  as  large  as  that,"  said  Rose,  placing  the  end  of 
the  forefinger  of  her  right  hand  in  the  middle  of  the  forefinger  of  her 
left  hand. 

"  But,  morbleu !  if  they  were  as  large  as  this,"  and  the  veteran 
held  out  his  arm  from  his  elbow  to  his  wrist,  — '« if  they  were  as  large 
as  this,  that  would  be  nothing ;  but  a  fair  man  with  blue  eyes,  ah, 
young  ladies,  what  does  that  signify  ? "  and  Dagobert  rose  from  his 
seat,  evidently  greatly  disturbed  and  disquieted. 

"  Ah  !  now,  Dagobert,  you  see  you  are  angry  directly." 

"  And  this  is  only  the  beginning,"  added  Blanche. 

"  The  beginning — what  is  there  more  ? — is  there  an  end  to  it  ?" 

"  An  end  ?  oh,  we  hope  not  yet ; "  and  Rose  laughed  very  heartily. 

"  All  we  hope  is,  that  it  may  last  for  ever,"  added  Blanche,  joining 
in  her  sister's  mirth. 

Dagobert  looked  at  them  in  turns  with  a  most  serious  air,  in  order 
to  find,  if  possible,  some  clue  to  this  enigma,  but  when  he  saw  their 
lovely  countenances  animated  only  by  open  and  joyous  laughter,  he 
reflected  that  they  could  not  be  so  mirthful  if  they  had  any  serious 
reproach  to  make  against  themselves,  and  he  at  once  abandoned  every 
thought  but  that  of  being  glad  to  see  the  orphans  so  gay  and  happy  in 
their  very  precarious  position,  and  said, — 

"^  Laugh,  laugh  away,  my  loves,  I  like  to  see  you  laugh  in  this 
way."  Then  reflecting  that,  perhaps,  that  was  not  precisely  the  reply 
which  he  ought  to  make  to  the  singular  recital  of  the  young  maidens, 
he  added,  in  a  serious  voice, — 

"  I  like  to  see  you  laugh,  certainly,  yes — but  not  when  you 
receive  fair  visitors  with  blue  eyes,  mesdemoiselles ;  come,  come,  tell 
me  at  once,  that  you  are  jesting  with  me — you  have  got  up  some  little 
joke  between  you — haven't  you  ?  " 

"  No  !  what  we  have  told  you  is  quite  true." 

"  You  know  we  never  told  you  a  falsehood,"  added  Rose. 

"True,  true,  indeed,  they  never  tell  untruths,"  said  the  soldier, 
whose  perplexity  was  thus  renewed ;  "  but  how  the  d — 1  are  such 
visits  possible?  I  sleep  on  the  threshold  outside  your  room  door, 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE.  39 

Kill-joy  sleeps  under  your  window,  and  all  the  blue  eyes  and  chestnut 
hair  in  the  world  cannot  enter  but  by  the  door  or  the  window,  and  if 
they  had  attempted,  why,  Kill-joy  and  I  should  have  given  them  a 
welcome  in  our  peculiar  way.  But,  come  now,  my  children,  tell  me  at 
once,  and  without  any  jesting — pray,  explain  this  to  me." 

The  two  sisters  seeing,  by  the  expression  of  Dagobert's  features, 
that  he  was  suffering  under  real  uneasiness,  resolved  not  to  prolong 
his  disquietude,  and  exchanging  glances,  Rose  took  into  her  own  little 
hands  the  coarse  broad  palm  of  the  veteran,  and  said, — 

"  Well,  then,  you  shall  not  be  teased  any  longer.  We  will  tell 
you  all  about  the  visits  of  our  friend — of  Gabriel " 

"  What,  are  you  beginning  again  ?     He  has  a  name,  has  he  ?" 

"  Certainly  he  has,  and  it  is  Gabriel." 

"  What  a  pretty  name,  isn't  it,  Dagobert?  Oh,  you  will  see  him, 
and  love  our  beautiful  Gabriel  as  much  as  we  do." 

"  I  shall  love  your  Gabriel  ?"  said  the  veteran,  shaking  his  head, — 
'•  I  shall  love  your  beautiful  Gabriel  ?  Why,  that's  as  may  be  ;  but  I 
must  know  him  first." 

Then  interrupting  himself,  "  But  it's  very  singular  ;  it  reminds  me 
of  something." 

"  Of  what,  Dagobert  ?" 

"  Why,  fifteen  years  ago,  in  the  last  letter  that  your  father  brought 
me  from  my  wife,  when  he  returned  from  France,  she  told  me,  that 
poor  as  she  was,  and  although  she  had  then  one  little  boy,  Agricola,  in 
arms  (though  he  was  growing  fast),  that  she  had  received  and  was 
bringing  up  a  poor  little  infant  who  had  been  forsaken ;  that  it  had  a 
face  like  a  cherub,  and  was  named  Gabriel ;  and  it  is  not  very  long 
ago  that  I  had  some  news  about  him." 

"  From  whom  ?" 

"  You  shall  know  all  in  good  time." 

"  Well,  then,  you  see,  as  you  have  a  Gabriel  of  your  own,  that's  the 
very  reason  why  you  should  love  our  Gabriel." 

"  Yours — yours — let  me  see  yours  ;   I  sit  on  burning  coals." 

"  You  know,  Dagobert,"  replied  Rose,  "  that  Blanche  and  1 
always  go  to  sleep,  holding  each  other  by  the  hand." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  have  seen  you  so  a  hundred  times  in  your  cradle. 
I  was  never  tired  of  looking  at  you  so;  you  looked  so  good  und 
nice." 

"  Well,  two  nights  ago  we  were  sleeping  so  calm  we  saw " 

"  It  was  a  dream,  then !"  exclaimed  Dagobert.  "  If  you  were 
asleep,  it  must  have  been  a  dream." 

"  To  be  sure  it  was  a  dream.     What  else  could  you  think  it  was  ?" 

"  Let  my  sister  go  on." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  sigh  of  extreme 
satisfaction.  "  Certainly,  in  every  respect  1  felt  quite  assured  in  my 
own  mind  ;  because,  you  see  —  but  it  is  quite  as  1  wished — a  dream. 
I  am  glad  it  was  a  dream.  But  go  on,  my  little  Rose." 

"  As  soon  as  we  were  both  asleep,  we  had  the  same  dream." 

"  What !  both  ?     What !  each  the  same  dream  ?" 

"  Yes,  Dagobert;  for  the  next  morning,  when  we  awoke,  we  told 
each  other  what  we  had  both  dreamed." 

"  And  both  had  dreamed  alike." 


40  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Really!  Well,  it  is  very  extraordinary,  my  dears;  and  what 
w;is  this  dream  about?" 

"  NVhy,  in  this  dream,  Blanche  and  I  were  sitting  beside  each 
other,  and  there  came  to  us  a  beautiful  angel  with  a  long  white  robe, 
chestnut  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a  countenance  so  beautiful  and  so  kind, 
that  we  joined  our  hands  together  as  though  to  pray  to  it.  Then  it  told 
us,  iii  a  sweet  soft  voice,  that  its  name  was  Gabriel,  and  that  our 
mother  had  sent  it  to  us  to  be  our  guardian-angel,  and  that  it  would 
never  forsake  us." 

"  And  then,"  added  Blanche,  "  taking  one  of  each  of  our  hands 
into  one  of  its  own,  and  bending  its  beautiful  face  towards  us,  it 
looked  at  us  for  a  very  long  time  in  silence,  and  very,  very  kindly — 
so  kindly,  indeed,  that  we  could  not  take  away  our  eyes  from  his." 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Rose,  "  and  it  seemed  as  if  every  moment  his 
look  was  more  benign  and  went  to  our  very  heart.  Then,  to  our 
great  mortification,  Gabriel  left  us,  saying,  that  the  next  night  we 
should  see  him  again." 

"  And  did  he  appear  the  next  night?" 

"  To  be  sure,  and  you  may  judge  how  anxious  we  were  to  go  to 
sleep  that  we  might  learn  whether  or  no  our  friend  would  return  to  us 
during  our  slumber." 

"  Umph !  that  reminds  me,  mesdemoiselles,  that  you  rubbed  your 
eyes  very  much  the  night  before  last,"  said  Dagobert,  rubbing  his 
forehead,  "  you  pretended  to  be  so  very  sleepy ;  and  I'll  wager,  that 
that  was  in  order  to  get  rid  of  me  the  sooner  that  you  might  jump  into 
bed  and  go  off  to  sleep  sooner  !" 

"  Yes,  Dagobert." 

"  Why,  you  could  not  say  to  me,  as  you  can  to  Kill-joy,  '  Go  to 
bed,  sir  !'— And  did  your  friend,  Gabriel,  return?" 

"  To  be  sure ;  and  he  talked  a  great  deal  to  us,  and,  in  our  mo- 
ther's name,  gave  us  such  good  and  tender  advice,  that  Rose  and  I 
next  day  could  think  of  nothing  else,  but  repeating  to  each  other 
every  thing  that  our  guardian  angel  had  uttered  and  advised  us,  as 
well  as  about  his  face  and  his  look." 

"  That  reminds  me,  mesdemoiselles,  that  yesterday  you  were  whis- 
pering together  all  along  the  road,  and  when  I  asked  you  a  straight 
question,  you  gave  me  a  crooked  answer." 

"  Yes,  Dagobert,  we  were  thinking  of  Gabriel;  and  as  we  both 
love  him  as  much  as  he  loves  us " 

"  But  is  he  devoted  to  you  two  only  ?" 

"  Was  not  our  mother  devoted  to  us  two  only  ?  And  you,  Dago- 
bert, are  not  you  devoted  to  us  two  only  ?" 

"  True,  true;  but  do  you  know  that  I  shall  become  jealous  of  this 
gay  gentleman  ?" 

"  You  are  our  friend  by  day,  and  he  by  night." 

"  But,  see,  if  you  talk  of  him  all  day  and  dream  of  him  all  night, 
what  will  there  be  left  for  me  ?" 

'  Two  orphans  whom  you  love  so  dearly,"  said  Rose. 

"  And  who  have  only  you  to  look  to  in  the  wide  world,"  added 
Blanche,  in  an  affectionate  tone. 

"  Ah,  ah !  that's  the  way  you  coax  the  old  soldier.  Well,  well, 
my  darlings,"  added  the  ? eteran,  in  a  tone  of  tenderness,  "  I  am  con- 


THE    DREAM. 


London:  rii;i;.!ii:m  an. I  l!:i!l.     FeVusrj  I, 


MUTUAL  CONFIDENCE.  41 

tent  with  my  lot,  and  I  leave  you  to  your  Gabriel.  I  knew  that  Kill-joy 
and  I  might  sleep  quietly  enough.  Besides,  it  is  not  so  very  astonish- 
ing ;  your  first  dream  had  made  an  impression  on  you,  and  as  you 
talked  together  so  much  about  it,  why  you  dreamed  it  all  over  again, 
and  so  I  should  not  be  astonished  if  you  saw  it  for  the  third  time  again. 
This  beautiful  night-bird " 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  do  not  laugh  at  it.  True,  they  were  only  dreams, 
but  they  seem  as  if  they  were  sent  by  our  mother.  Did  she  not  tell 
us  that  young  orphan  girls  had  guardian  angels  ?  and  so  Gabriel  is 
our  guardian  angel,  and  will  protect  us  and  you  also." 

<%  It  would  be  very  kind  of  him  to  think  of  me ;  but,  my  dear 
girls,  do  you  see  that  I  prefer  as  my  aide-de-camp  in  protecting  you 
friend  Kill-joy  :  he  is  not  so  fair  as  an  angel,  but  his  teeth  are  stronger, 
and  his  bite  more  sure." 

"  Ah,  you  arc  very  tiresome,  Dagobert,  with  your  jokes." 

"  Yes,  you  really  are  ;  you  laugh  at  every  thing." 

"  Yes,  it  is  astonishing  how  gay  I  am.  I  laugh  like  old  Jovial 
without  shewing  my  teeth ;  but  do  not  scold  me,  my  dear  children. 
I  was  wrong ;  the  thought  of  your  sainted  mother  mingled  with  this 
dream,  and  we  should  always  talk  of  her  with  seriousness.  Besides," 
added  he,  with  a  grave  air,  "  there's  sometimes  truth  in  dreams.  In 
Spain,  two  comrades  of  mine  of  the  empress's  dragoons  dreamed,  the 
night  before  they  died,  that  they  were  poisoned  by  the  monks,  and  so 
they  were.  If  you  resolve  on  dreaming  about  your  beautiful  angel, 
Gabriel,  why — you  see  then — why,  if  it  amuses  you,  why  not?  You 
have  not  much  entertainment  during  the  day,  and  so  your  sleep  ought 
to  be  as  diverting  as  possible.  But  I  have  a  good  deal  to  tell  you,  all 
about  your  mother;  but  promise  me  not  to  be  sad." 

"  Certainly  we  do  ;  when  we  think  of  her  we  are  not  sad,  but  only 
serious." 

"  Well,  well ;  for  fear  of  making  you  sorrowful,  I  have  put  off  as 
long  as  I  could  telling  you  what  your  poor  mother  would  have  told 
you  when  you  had  ceased  to  be  children,  but  she  died  so  suddenly 
that  she  had  not  time  ;  and,  then,  what  she  would  have  told  you 
would  almost  have  broken  her  heart,  and  mine  also  ;  so  I  delayed  my 
confidence  as  long  as  I  could,  and  I  did  not  tell  you  any  thing  before 
the  day  when  we  crossed  the  field  of  battle  in  which  your  father  was 
taken  prisoner — I  gained  time  by  that  —  but  now  the  moment  has 
arrived,  and  there  is  no  retreat." 

"  We  will  listen,  Dagobert,"  replied  the  young  girls,  with  an 
attentive  and  melancholy  air. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  he  collected  himself,  the 
veteran  said  to  the  two  sisters, — 

"  Your  father,  General  Simon,  was  the  son  of  a  mechanic,  who 
remained  a  mechanic,  for,  in  spite  of  all  that  the  general  could  do 
or  say,  the  good  man  obstinately  clung  to  his  employment — he  had  a 
head  of  iron  and  a  heart  of  gold,  just  like  his  son.  You  may  suppose, 
my  children,  that  if  your  father,  who  enlisted  as  a  common  soldier, 
became  a  general  and  a  count  of  the  empire,  that  that  was  not 
attained  without  exertion  and  glory." 

"  Count  of  the  empire,  Dagobert,  what's  that?" 

"  Oh !   a  folly  —  a  title  which   the   emperor  gave   (beyond   the 


42  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

bargain)  with  the  promotion — a  something  to  say  to  the  people,  whom 
he  loved,  because  he  belonged  to  them.  My  children,  you  like  to 
play  at  nobility,  us  the  old  noblesse  did,  well,  then,  you  are  noble. 
If  you  like  to  play  tit  kings,  I'll  make  kings  of  you  — try  every  thing. 
There's  nothing  too  high  or  too  good  for  you  —  so  feast  on  what  you 
prefer  or  fancy." 

"  Kings!"  said  the  little  girls,  clasping  their  hands  in  wonder. 

"  More  than  kings,  if  that's  possible.  Ah !  he  was  not  selfish 
with  crowns  and  thrones,  the  emperor.  I  had  a  bedfellow,  as  good  a 
soldier  as  ever  drew  sword,  who  became  a  king;  well,  we  all  liked 
that,  it  flattered  us,  because  when  one  was  a  king,  we  were  all  kings, 
and  it  was  playing  at  this  game  that  your  father  became  a  count ;  but, 
count  or  no  count,  he  was  the  handsomest  and  bravest  general  in 
the  army." 

"  He  was  very  handsome,  Dagobert,  was  he  not?  Our  mother 
always  said  so." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  he  was,  but  he  was  by  no  means  a  fair  man,  like 
your  guardian  angel.  Imagine  a  splendid,  dark-complexioned  man, 
in  full  uniform,  a  man  to  dazzle  your  eyes,  and  put  courage  into  your 
heart;  with  him  a  soldier  would  have  charged  on  the6o?i  Dieu  himself, 
— that  is,  you  will  understand,  if  the  bon  Dieu  had  desired  it,"  added 
Dagobert,  eager  to  correct  himself,  and  desirous  in  no  way  to  wound 
the  innocent  creed  of  the  orphans. 

"  And  our  father  was  as  good  as  he  was  brave,  wasn't  he,  Dago- 
bert?" 

"  Good,  my  darlings !— he  ?  I  believe  so!  He  could  bend  a 
horse-shoe  between  his  hands  as  you  could  bend  a  card,  and  the  day 
he  was  made  prisoner  he  had  cut  down  the  Prussian  artillery- men  at 
their  very  guns.  With  his  courage  and  strength,  how  could  he  help 
being  good  ?  It  is  nearly  nineteen  years  ago,  that  hereabouts,  in  the 
place  I  pointed  out  to  you  before  we  entered  the  village,  the  general 
fell  from  his  horse  dangerously  wounded.  As  his  orderly,  I  followed 
him,  and  ran  to  his  succour.  Five  minutes  afterwards  we  were  taken 
prisoners — and  by  whom,  think  you  ?  By  a  Frenchman.'' 

"  A  Frenchman  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  an  emigrant  marquis,  colonel  in  the  Russian  service,' 
replied  Dagobert,  bitterly.  "  So  when  this  marquis  said  as  he  ad- 
vanced to  the  general,  '  Surrender,  sir,  to  a  countryman,'  your  father 
replied,  '  A  Frenchman  who  fights  against  his  father -land  is  no 
countryman  of  mine— he  is  a  traitor,  and  I  do  not  surrender  to 
traitors!'  and,  wounded  as  he  was,  he  dragged  himself  to  a  Russian 
grenadier,  and  gave  him  his  sabre,  saying,  *  I  surrender  to  you,  my 
gallant  fellow  ;'  the  marquis  became  pale  with  rage." 

The  orphan  girls  looked  at  each  other  proudly,  a  scarlet  colour 
suffused  their  cheeks,  and  they  exclaimed, — 

"  Brave  father  !  brave  father!" 

"  Ah!"  said  Dagobert,  caressing  his  moustache  with  a  delighted 
air,  "  we  may  see  the  soldier's  blood  in  the  girls'  veins."  Then  he 
continued,  "  Well,  we  were  prisoners,  the  last  horse  of  the  general's 
had  been  killed  under  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  mount  Jovial,  who 
had  not  been  wounded  that  day,  to  get  on  his  journey.  Well,  we 
reached  Warsaw,  there  the  general  met  your  mother,  who  was  called 


THE    SURPRISE. 
P.   4». 


l,ondon:  Chapman  and  Hall.     March  I.  l»-l" 


THE  TRAVELLER.  43 

the  '  Pearl  of  Warsaw/  and  that,  name  comprises  every  thing.  So  he 
who  loved  all  that  was  good  and  handsome  soon  fell  in  love  with  her; 
she  loved  him  in  return,  but  her  parents  had  promised  her  to  another, 

and  that  other  was  no  other  than " 

Dagobert  could  not  continue,  for  Rose,  uttering  a  piercing  shriek, 
pointed  to  the  window  in  an  agony  of  fear. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  TRAVELLER. 

DAGOBERT  rose  quickly  at  the  cry  of  the  young  girl. 

"  What  ails  you,  Rose?" 

"  There — there  !"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  window  ;  "  I  thought  I 
saw  a  hand  move  the  pelisse." 

Rose  had  not  finished  these  words,  before  Dagobert  hastened  to 
the  window,  which  he  opened  with  haste,  after  having  taken  away  the 
cloak  which  was  hung  up  in  the  window-frame. 

It  was  very  dark  without,  and  the  wind  blew  violently. 

The  soldier  listened,  but  heard  nothing. 

He  then  took  the  candle  from  the  table,  and  endeavoured  to  throw 
its  rays  outside  by  covering  the  flame  with  his  hand. 

He  saw  nothing. 

Closing  the  window  again,  he  persuaded  himself  that  a  gust  of  wind 
had  moved  and  deranged  the  cloak.  Rose  must  have  been  deceived. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  dears.  The  wind  is  very  high,  and  must 
have  stirred  the  corner  of  the  cloak." 

"  Yet  I  fancied  I  saw  the  fingers  which  moved  it  on  one  side,"  said 
Rose,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  I  was  looking  at  Dagobert,"  said  Blanche,  "  and  so  did  not  see 
any  thing." 

"There  was  nothing  to  see,  my  children,  that's  quite  evident. 
The  window  is  at  least  eight  feet  and  a  half  above  the  ground,  and  so 
only  a  giant  could  reach  up,  or  else  a  ladder  must  be  used  to  get  up. 
It' there  had  been  a  ladder,  there  could  not  have  been  time  to  remove 
it  before  1  reached  the  window,  which  I  did  as  soon  as  Rose  cried  out ; 
and  \\licn  I  held  the  candle  out  I  could  not  see  any  thing." 

"  I  must  have  been  deceived,"  said  Rose. 

"  You  see,  sister,  it  could  only  have  been  the  wind,"  added  Blanche1. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  interrupted  you,  Dagobert !" 

"  Never  mind  that,"  replied  the  soldier,  musing.  "  I  am  sorry  that 
Kill-joy  has  not  returned,  for  he  would  have  kept  watch  at  the  window, 
and  that  would  have  given  you  confidence ;  but,  no  doubt,  he  lias 
smelted  out  the  stable  of  his  comrade  Jovial,  and  has  gone  in  to  say 
good-night  to  him.  I  have  a  good  mind  to  go  out  and  look  for  him." 

"  Oh  !  no,  Dagobert,  do  not  leave  us  alone,"  exclaimed  the  young 
girls ;  "  we  should  be  so  frightened  !" 


44  THE  WANDERIKG  JEW. 

"  Well,  then,  I  daresay  Kill-joy  will  not  be  long  before  he  returns, 
mill  we  shall  soon  hear  him  scratching  at  the  door.  Well,  then,  I'll 
go  on  with  my  story,"  said  Dagobert,  as  he  seated  himself  at  the 
foot  of  the  two  sisters'  bed,  with  his  face  towards  the  window. 

"  Well,  the  general  was  a  prisoner  at  Warsaw  and  in  love  with 
your  mother,  whom  they  wished  to  marry  to  another,"  he  said.  "  In 
1814  the  war  was  brought  to  an  end.  The  emperor  was  exiled  to  the 
Isle  of  Elba,  and  the  Bourbons  were  restored  ;  and,  in  concert  with 
the  Russians  and  Prussians  who  had  brought  them  back,  they  had 
exiled  the  emperor  to  the  Island  of  Elba.  When  your  mother  learnt 
that,  she  said  to  the  general,  '  The  war  is  ended — you  are  free! 
The  emperor  is  in  misfortune  ; — you  owe  all  to  him — go  to  him  ! 
I  know  not  when  we  shall  meet  again ;  but  I  will  never  marry 
any  one  but  you.  I  am  yours  till  death  !'  Before  he  started,  the 
general  sent  for  me.  '  Dagobert,'  said  he,  '  remain  here.  Perhaps 
Mademoiselle  Eva  may  require  your  aid  to  fly  from  her  family  if  they 
persecute  her — our  correspondence  will  pass  through  your  hands.  In 
Paris  I  shall  see  your  wife — your  son;  and  I  will  console  them.  I 
will  tell  them  what  you  are  to  me — how  dear  a  friend  ! ' ' 

"Always  the  same!"  said  Rose,  in  a  tender  voice,  looking  at 
Dagobert. 

"  Good  to  the  father  and  the  mother  as  to  the  children  ! "  added 
Blanche. 

"  To  love  the  one  was  to  love  the  other,"  replied  the  veteran. 
"  So,  then,  the  general  was  in  the  Isle  of  Elba  with  the  emperor.  I 
was  at  Warsaw,  and  in  concealment  near  your  mother's  house,  when  I 
received  letters,  and  conveyed  them  secretly  to  her.  In  one  of  these — 
and  I  say  it  with  pride,  my  dears — the  general  told  me  that  the 
emperor  remembered  me." 

"  You  !     What !  — he  knew  you  then  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  little  bit,  I  flatter  myself.  '  Ah  !  Dagobert  ? '  said  he  to 
your  father,  who  had  mentioned  me,  '  a  grenadier  of  my  old  horse- 
guard  !  —  a  soldier  of  Egypt  and  Italy,  furrowed  with  wounds ;  an  old 
'  pince-sans-rire ,'  whom  I  decorated  with  my  own  hand  at  Wagram  : 
I  have  not  forgotten  him  !'  Dame  !  my  children,  when  your  mother 
read  that  to  me,  I  cried  like  a  blubbering  schoolboy  1 " 

"  The  emperor !  Oh  !  what  a  beautiful  golden  face  he  had  in  your 
silver  cross  with  the  red  riband  which  you  used  to  shew  us  sometimes 
when  we  were  good  girls ! " 

"  That  was  the  very  cross  he  gave  me  with  his  own  hand.  It  is 
my  relic  —  mine  ! — and  it  is  there  in  that  bag  with  all  that  we  have  in 
the  world — our  little  purse  and  our  papers.  But  to  return  to  your 
mother.  When  I  carried  to  her  the  general's  letters,  and  talked  with 
her  about  him,  that  was  a  great  comfort  to  her,  for  she  suffered  a  great 
deal.  Oh!  yes;  a  very  great  deal.  Her  relatives  were  very  unkind 
to  her,  and  tormented  her  greatly;  but  she  always  told  them,  '  /  will 
never  marry  any  one  but  General  Simon!'  She  was  a  determined 
spirit,  she  was! — resigned,  but  full  of  courage!  One  day  she  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  general.  He  had  sailed  from  Elba  with  the 
emperor.  The  war  began  again  ;  and  in  this  campaign  of  France, 
especially  at  Montmirail,  my  loves,  your  father  fought  like  a  lion,  and 


THE  TRAVELLER.  45 

his  brigade  fought  like  him.  It  was  no  longer  bravery — it  was  down- 
right rage ;  and  he  told  me  that  in  Champagne  the  peasantry  killed 
so  many  Prussians  that  their  fields  were  manured  for  years  to  come ! 
Men,  women,  and  children,  all  ran  forward!  Pitchforks,  stones, 
pickaxes,  shovels,  all  and  every  thing  was  turned  into  arms,  and  used 
for  slaughter.  It  was  a  real  battue  of  wolves  ! " 

The  veins  in  the  veteran's  forehead  swelled,  his  cheeks  grew  scar- 
let, as  this  trait  of  popular  heroism  recalled  to  him  the  sublime  ardour 
of  the  republican  wars — those  levies  en  masse  in  which  his  earliest 
scenes  of  military  life  had  passed. 

The  orphans,  the  daughters  of  a  warrior  and  a  high-spirited  mother, 
were  excited  by  these  energetic  words,  and  instead  of  being  intimidated 
by  their  roughness,  their  hearts  beat  high  and  their  cheeks  became 
flushed. 

"  What  happiness  for  us  to  be  the  daughters  of  so  brave  a  father ! " 
exclaimed  Blanche. 

"  What  happiness,  and  what  good  fortune,  my  children,  for  on  the 
evening  after  the  fight  of  Montmirail,  the  emperor,  to  the  joy  of  the 
whole  army,  created  your  father  on  the  field  of  battle  Duke  of  Mont- 
mirail and  Marshal  of  France  !  " 

"  Marshal  of  France!"  said  Rose,  amazed,  and  hardly  under- 
standing the  purport  of  these  words. 

"  Duke  of  Montmirail ! "  added  Blanche,  equally  surprised. 

"  Yes,  Pierre  Simon,  the  workman's  son,  a  duke  and  marshal! 
He  could  not  be  higher  unless  he  was  a  king,"  continued  Dagobert, 
with  pride.  "  That's  the  way  the  emperor  treated  the  sons  of  the 
people,  and  so  the  people  were  always  for  him.  It  was  no  use  for  any 
to  say,  '  Ah !  but  your  emperor  only  considers  you  as  food  for  powder ! ' 
'  Pooh!  why  another  would  make  of  us  food  for  misery,'  replied  the 
people,  who  are  no  fools.  '  I  prefer  gunpowder  and  the  chance  of  being 
a  captain, colonel, marshal, king, — or  invalid:  that's  better  than  starving 
with  want,  cold,  or  old  age,  on  dirty  straw  in  an  old  garret,  after 
having  toiled  uselessly  forty  years  for  other  people.' " 

"  What!  in  France  —  in  Paris  —  in  that  beautiful  city,  are  there 
miserable  creatures  who  die  of  want  and  misery,  Dagobert?" 

"  Yes,  even  in  Paris,  my  dears,  there  is  want  and  misery ;  but  I 
will  leave  that  now.  I  like  gunpowder  better,  for  with  that  one  has  the 
chance  of  being  made  a  peer  or  a  marshal,  like  your  father.  When  I 
say  peer  and  marshal,  I  am  right  and  I  am  wrong,  for  afterwards  he 
was  not  known  by  that  title  and  rank  ;  because,  after  Montmirail,* 
there  was  a  day  of  deep  mourning,  very  deep,  on  which  old  soldiers 
like  me,  and  the  generals,  have  wept — yes,  wept — the  evening  of  that 
battle — of  that  day,  my  dears,  called  Waterloo." 

There  was  in  the  simple  words  of  Dagobert  an  accent  of  sorrow  so 
deep  that  the  orphans  trembled  at  its  expression. 

"  There  are,"  resumed  the  soldier,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  days  accursed 
as  these.  This  day,  at  Waterloo,  the  general  fell,  covered  with  wounds, 
at  the  head  of  a  division  of  the  guard.  After  a  long  time  he  was  cured, 
and  requested  leave  to  go  to  St.  Helena,  another  island  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  world,  where  the  English  had  sent  the  emperor  to  torture 
him,  at  their  ease ;  for  if  he  was  fortunate  at  first,  he  suffered  a  great 
deal  of  misery  in  his  after-life,  my  poor  dears," 


46  THE  WANDERIHG  JEW. 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  how  sad  !  you  make  us  weep." 

"  And  there's  reason  for  tears.  The  emperor  endured  so  much — 
so  very  much.  His  heart  bled  cruelly  —  but  it's  over.  Unfortunately 
the  general  was  not  with  him  at  St.  Helena,  or  he  would  have  been  one 
more  to  console  him  :  they  would  not  let  him  go.  Then  he,  exaspe- 
rated, like  many  more,  against  the  Bourbons,  organised  a  conspiracy 
to  recall  the  emperor's  son.  He  was  anxious  to  gain  over  a  regiment 
^  composed  almost  entirely  of  old  soldiers  devoted  to  him.  He  went 
into  a  city  of  Picardy,  in  which  this  garrison  was  stationed,  but  the 
conspiracy  had  been  discovered.  At  the  moment  when  the  general 
arrived  there,  he  was  arrested  and  led  before  the  colonel  of  the  regi- 
ment :  and  this  colonel,"  said  the  veteran,  after  a  minute's  silence, — 
"  do  you  know  who  he  was  ?  But,  bah! — it  is  too  long  a  story  to 
tell  now,  and  would  only  sadden  you.  Well,  then,  it  was  a  man 
whom  your  father  had  long  had  reason  to  hate  heartily.  Well,  they 
were  face  to  face,  and  the  general  said,  '  If  you  are  not  a  coward,  you 
will  put  me  at  liberty  for  one  hour,  and  we  will  fight  till  one  falls,  for  I 
hate  you  for  that,  I  despise  you  for  the  other,  and  still  more  for  this.' 
The  colonel  accepted  the  offer,  and  released  your  father  until  the  next 
morning,  when  there  was  a  bloody  duel,  the  end  of  which  was,  that  the 
colonel  was  left  for  dead  on  the  plain." 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu  /" 

"  The  general  was  wiping  his  sword,  when  a  friend  stepped  up  and 
told  him  that  he  might  yet  escape.  He  did  so,  and  fortunately  got  out 
of  France :  yes,  fortunately,  for  fifteen  days  afterwards  he  was  con- 
demned to  death  as  a  conspirator." 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  what  misfortunes  !" 

"  There  was  good  fortune  in  this  misfortune — your  mother  kept 
firmly  to  her  promise,  and  was  constantly  expecting  him.  She  had 
written  to  him  to  say,  '  the  emperor  first  and  me  afterwards!'  As  he 
could  no  longer  do  any  thing  either  for  the  emperor  or  his  son,  the 
general,  exiled  from  France,  reached  Warsaw.  Your  mother's  parents 
had  just  died ;  she  was  therefore  free,  and  they  were  married,  and  I 
am  one  of  the  witnesses  of  their  marriage." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert ;  that  was  really  good  fortune  amidst 
misfortune." 

"  Well,  at  last  they  were  happy  ;  but,  like  all  noble  hearts,  the 
happier  they  were  themselves,  the  more  they  pitied  the  miseries  of 
others — and  there  was  much  to  pity  in  Warsaw.  The  Russians  were 
*again  beginning  to  treat  the  Poles  as  slaves,  and  your  dear  mother, 
although  of  French  origin,  was  yet  a  Pole  in  heart  and  feeling.  She 
boldly  said  out  what  others  dared  not  even  whisper,  and  the  unhappy 
called  her  their  good  angel,  and  that  was  enough  to  draw  upon  her  the 
suspicious  eye  of  the  Russian  governor.  One  day  a  colonel  of  the 
lancers,  a  friend  of  the  general's,  a  brave  and  worthy  man,  was  con- 
demned to  exile  in  Siberia,  for  a  military  conspiracy  against  the 
Russians.  He  escaped,  and  your  father  gave  him  shelter.  This  was 
discovered,  and  during  the  next  night,  a  body  of  Cossacks,  led  by  an 
officer  and  followed  by  a  post  carriage,  came  to  our  door,  surprised  the 
general  in  bed,  and  carried  him  off." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  what  did  they  do  with  him  ?" 

"  Conduct  him  out  of  Russia,  with  a  peremptory  order  never  again 


THE  TRAVELLER.  47 

to  set  foot  in  it  under  pain  of  imprisonment  for  life.  His  last  words 
were,  '  Dagobert,  I  trust  to  your  keeping  my  wife  and  child;'  for 
your  mother  was  expecting  your  birth  soon  after.  Well,  in  spite  of 
that  she  was  exiled  to  Siberia.  It  was  an  opportunity  for  getting  rid 
of  her — she  did  so  much  good  in  Warsaw  that  they  were  afraid  of  her. 
Not  content  with  exile,  they  confiscated  all  her  property.  The  only 
favour  they  would  grant  was,  that  I  should  accompany  her  ;  and  had 
it  not  been  for  Jovial,  whom  the  general  had  allowed  me  to  retain,  she 
would  have  been  forced  to  make  the  journey  on  foot.  Well,  in  this 
way,  she  on  the  horse,  and  I  walking  by  her  side,  as  I  do  by  yours, 
my  darlings,  we  reached,  three  months  after,  a  miserable  village,  in 
which  you  were  born — poor  little  things  ! " 

"  And  our  father?" 

"  He  dared  not  return  into  Russia,  and  it  was  impossible  for  your 
mother  to  fly  with  two  children,  and  equally  impossible  for  the  general 
to  write  to  her,  because  he  did  not  know  where  she  was." 

"  And  did  you  never  hear  from  him  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dears,  once  we  heard »" 

"  What,  and  by  whom?" 

After  a  moment's  silence,  Dagobert  replied,  with  a  singular  ex- 
pression of  countenance, — 

"  By  whom  ?  Why,  by  one  who  did  not  resemble  other  men — 
yes — and  that  you  may  understand  what  I  say,  I  must  tell  you,  as 
briefly  as  I  can,  an  extraordinary  adventure  which  happened  to  your 
father  during  a  campaign  in  France.  He  had  received  from  the 
emperor  an  order  to  storm  a  battery  which  was  dealing  heavy  destruc- 
tion in  our  lines.  After  many  unsuccessful  attempts,  the  general, 
heading  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  dashed  at  the  battery,  according  to 
his  usual  practice,  and  cut  down  the  men  at  their  very  guns.  He 
found  himself  on  his  horse  exactly  before  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  of 
which  all  the  artillery-men  were  killed  or  wounded ;  one,  however, 
had  strength  enough  to  raise  himself  and  hold  out  his  slow-light  to 
the  touch-hole  of  the  piece,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  general  was 
only  ten  paces  from  the  mouth  of  the  gun." 

"  Grand  Dieu,  what  danger  our  father  was  in !" 

"  Never,  as  he  told  me,  was  he  in  greater  peril— for  the  moment 
he  saw  the  artillery-man  fire  the  gun,  it  went  off;  but  at  that  very 
moment  a  tall  man,  dressed  like  a  countryman,  and  whom  your 
father  had  not  before  remarked,  threw  himself  before  the  cannon's 
mouth " 

"  Ah !  wretched  man !     What  a  horrid  death  ! 

"  Yes,"  said  Dagobert,  pensively.  "  That  ought  to  have  happened 
• — he  should  have  been  shattered  into  a  thousand  bits — yet  he  was 
not " 

"  What  say  you?" 

"  Why,  the  general  told  me,  *  At  the  moment  when  the  gun  fired,' 
he  has  often  repeated,  '  by  a  movement  of  involuntary  horror,  I  closed 
my  eyes,  that  I  might  not  see  the  mutilated  carcase  of  the  wretched 
individual  sacrificed  in  my  place.  When  I  opened  them,  what  should 
I  see,  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke,  but  this  tall  individual  standing  erect 
ami  ([iiite  calm  on  the  same  spot,  casting  a  sad  but  sweet  smile  on  the 
artillery-man,  who,  with  one  knee  on  the  ground,  his  body  half  recum- 


48  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

bent,  looked  at  him  with  as  much  fear  as  if  he  had  been  the  devil 
himself ;  then  the  battle  raging  hotly  it  was  impossible  for  me  again  to 
find  this  man,'  added  your  father." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  Dagobert,  is  this  possible  ? " 

"  That's  what  I  inquired  of  the  general.  He  replied  that  he  never 
could  explain  this  singular  fact  to  his  satisfaction.  Your  father  was 
much  struck  by  the  features  of  this  man,  who  appeared,  as  he  told  me, 
about  thirty  years  of  age,  with  very  black  eyebrows,  which  united  in 
the  centre  of  his  forehead,  making,  as  it  were,  only  one  large  brow 
from  one  temple  to  the  other,  so  that  his  forehead  appeared  as  if  it  was 
stamped  with  a  black  semicircle — remember  this,  my  dears,  you  will 
know  why  presently." 

"  Yes,  Dagobert,  we  will  not  forget  it,"  said  the  astonished  girls. 
"  How  very  strange,  a  man  with  his  forehead  encircled  with  a 
black  ray." 

"  Listen  now.  The  general  had  been,  I  told  you,  left  for  dead  at 
Waterloo.  During  the  night,  which  he  passed  on  the  field  of  battle 
in  a  sort  of  delirium,  caused  by  the  fever  of  his  wounds,  there  seemed 
to  appear  to  him,  in  the  moonlight,  the  same  man,  who  leaned  over 
him,  contemplating  his  features  with  great  tenderness  and  sorrow,  and 
who,  stanching  the  blood  of  his  wounds,  did  all  in  his  power  to 
recover  him.  And  as  your  father,  whose  senses  were  wandering, 
repulsed  him  and  refused  his  care,  saying,  that,  after  such  a  disastrous 
defeat,  there  was  nothing  left  him  but  to  die,  it  seemed  to  him  this 
person  said,  '  You  must  live  for  Eva's  sake  !'  That  was  your  mother's 
name — your  mother,  whom  the  general  had  left  at  Warsaw,  to  rejoin 
the  emperor,  and  with  him  once  more  enter  on  a  campaign  for 
France." 

"  How  very  strange,  Dagobert !  and  did  our  father  ever  see  that 
man  again  ?" 

"He  did !  it  was  he  who  brought  the  general's  letters  and  mes- 
sages to  your  poor  mother." 

"  When  could  that  have  been  ?  we  never  saw  him." 

"  Do  you  recollect  that  on  the  morning  of  your  dear  mother's 
death  you  had  gone  with  old  Fedora  to  the  forest  of  pines?" 

"  Oh  yes  !"  replied  Rose,  mournfully,  "we  had  accompanied  Fedora 
to  search  for  a  particular  sort  of  moss  our  mother  used  to  be  so 
fond  of." 

"  Dear  mother,"  murmured  Blanche,  her  soft  eyes  filling  with 
tears,  "  who  could  have  anticipated  when  we  quitted  her  so  well  in 
the  morning  the  dreadful  blow  we  were  to  experience  that  very  night!" 

"  Who,  indeed,  my  child  ?  As  for  me,  on  that  very  morning  I 
was  at  work  in  the  garden  singing  my  merriest  song,  and  as  little 
dreaming  of  trouble  or  sorrow  as  yourselves,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a 
voice  behind  me  inquire  in  French,  '  Is  this  the  village  of  Milosk  ? ' 
I  turned  hastily  round  and  perceived  a  stranger  standing  before  me  ; 
instead  of  replying  to  his  question,  I  looked  steadfastly  at  him  and 
retreated  several  steps  in  utter  surprise  and  astonishment." 

"  And  wherefore  were  you  so  startled?" 

"  The  individual  was  of  immense  height,  very  pale,  with  a  high  ex- 
pansive forehead,  his  thick  black  eyebrows  had  grown  together  so  as 
to  shade  his  countenance  with  one  dark  gloomy  semicircle," 


THE  TRAVELLER.  49 

"  This  was  doubtless  the  same  person  who  had  twice  stood  beside 
our  father  during  the  battles  he  was  engaged  in !" 

"The  very  same !" 

"  But  tell  me,  Dagobert,"  said  Rose,  thoughtfully,  "  how  long  is 
it  since  these  battles  took  place  ? " 

"  About  sixteen  years  ! " 

"  And  this  stranger  whose  appearance  so  greatly  astonished  you — 
about  how  old  was  he  ?" 

"  Scarcely  thirty  years!" 

"  Then  how  could  he  possibly  be  the  same  man  who,  sixteen  years 
previously,  had  fought  in  the  same  campaign  as  our  father  ?" 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Dagobert,  shrugging  his  shoulders ;  "  I  must 
have  been  deceived  by  some  passing  resemblance — yet " 

"  At  least,  if  it  were  really  the  person  you  imagined,  his  age  must 
have  stood  still  all  those  years,  and  that  is  quite  impossible." 

"  But  did  you  not  ask  him  if  he  were  the  very  same  individual  who 
had  formerly  succoured  our  parent  ?" 

"In  my  first  confusion  of  ideas  I  did  not  think  of  it;  and  he 
stayed  so  very  short  a  time  that  I  had  no  further  opportunity  of  so 
doing.  He  again  inquired  for  the  village  of  Milosk. 

"  '  You  are  there  at  present,'  replied  I,  '  but  how  did  you  discover 
I  was  a  Frenchman  ? ' 

"  *  By  hearing  you  sing  as  I  passed  by  this  garden,'  answered  he ; 
'  but  can  you  tell  me  where  Madame  Simon,  wife  to  the  general  of 
that  name,  resides  ? ' 

"  '  This  is  her  house,  sir  ! ' 

"  Evidently  perceiving  the  surprise  his  visit  occasioned  me,  he  sur- 
veyed me  for  several  minutes  in  silence,  then  holding  out  his  hand  to 
me,  he  said,*— 

"  '  You  are  the  friend  of  General  Simon — I  may  say  his  best  friend !' 

"  You  may  judge,  my  children,  of  the  utter  amazement  I  ex- 
perienced at  finding  a  mere  stranger  so  well  informed  on  such  matters  : 
ut  length  I  managed  to  exclaim, — 

"  '  And  how  know  you  this,  sir  ?' 

"  *  From  frequently  hearing  the  general  speak  of  you  in  terms  of 
grateful  recollection.' 

"  '  You  have  then  seen  the  general?' 

"  '  I  knew  him  long  since  in  India ;  and  am  equally  with  yourself 
his  friend.  I  have  constantly  been  employed  by  him  to  convey  his 
letters,  &c.  to  his  lady,  of  whose  exile  in  Siberia  I  was  perfectly  aware. 
At  Tobolsk  I  learned  that  she  inhabited  this  village.  Have  the  good- 
ness to  conduct  me  to  her  at  once.' " 

"  Kind  traveller,  how  I  love  him ! "  said  Rose. 

"  For  he  was  our  dear  father's  friend,"  added  Blanche. 

"  I  begged  him  to  wait  a  few  minutes  while  I  apprised  your  mother 
of  his  proposed  visit,  fearing  any  sudden  surprise  might  be  injurious  to 
her.  Five  minutes  afterwards  he  was  admitted  into  her  presence." 

"And  how  was  this  traveller  dressed,  Dagobert?  what  sort  of 
person  was  he  ? " 

"  Very  tall,  with  long  black  curling  hair.  He  wore  a  dark  travel- 
ling cloak,  with  a  similar  cap." 

"  And  was  he  handsome  ?" 

4  E 


/50  THK  W  \\Tn.MWO  JEW. 

"  Yes,  my  children,  extremely  so;  but  the  expression  of  his  coun- 
tenance, though  kind  and  gentle,  had  a  grief-worn  look  that  cut  me  to 
the  heart." 

"Poor  man!  some  severe  trouble — some  incurable  affliction,  no 
doubt!" 

"  Your  mother  remained  closeted  with  him  for  some  time,  when 
she  summoned  me  to  say  she  had  received  favourable  tidings  from  the 
general.  She  was  in  tears,  and  had  before  her  a  large  packet  of 
papers,  forming  a  species  of  journal.  The  general  was  in  the  habit  of 
writing  to  her  nearly  every  evening  to  console  her  for  their  separation. 
Unable  to  converse  with  her,  he  poured  out  on  paper  all  he  would 
have  said  had  she  been  present." 

"And  where  are  these  papers,  Dagobert  ?" 

"  There,  in  my  wallet,  with  my  cross  and  our  purse— one  of  these 
days  I  will  give  them  to  you.  I  have  merely  taken  out  a  few  leaves 
which  I  will  read  to  you  directly — you  will  see  then  why  I  have 
selected  them." 

"  Was  our  father  long  in  India  ?" 

"  From  the  little  your  mother  told  me  it  appears  that  the  general 
had  gone  thither  after  having  fought  with  the  Greeks  against  the  Turks 
— for  he  ever  loved  to  side  with  the  weak  and  oppressed  against  the 
strong.  Upon  his  arrival  in  India,  he  commenced  a  bitter  strife 
against  the  English,  who  had  massacred  our  countrymen  when  pri- 
soners of  war,  and  held  our  emperor  in  bondage  at  St.  Helena.  This 
was  a  legitimate  war ;  and  while  wreaking  his  vengeance  on  a  nation 
he  detested,  he  was  enabled  to  assist  a  good  cause." 

"  How,  Dagobert  ?     What  cause  could  he  befriend  ?" 

"  That  of  one  of  the  tributary  petty  princes  of  India,  then  ravaged 
by  the  English  without  the  slightest  pretext  to  cover  their  unjust  in- 
vasion. Here,  again,  you  see  my  children,  your  noble  father  acted 
upon  his  favourite  impulse,  that  of  protecting  the  weak  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  strong ;  and  in  a  very  short  space  of  time  he  had  so 
well  disciplined  and  instructed  the  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  men  who 
composed  the  troops  of  the  Indian  sovereign,  that  they  gained  two  de- 
cisive victories  over  their  invaders,  the  English,  who,  but  for  his  timely 

interposition,  would But  stay,  a  few  pages  from  his  journal  will 

tell  you  more  and  better  than  I  can.  Besides,  you  will  then  read  a 
name  you  must  never  forget ;  and  for  that  reason  I  have  selected  this 
passage." 

"  Oh,  what  happiness  !"  exclaimed  Rose,  "  to  be  able  to  read  the 
very  words  traced  by  our  dear  parent's  hand  ;  it  is  almost  the  same  as 
though  he  spoke  to  us." 

"As  though  he  were  beside  us,"  added  Blanche,  tenderly. 

So  speaking,  both  sisters  eagerly  extended  their  hands  to  receive 
the  papers  Dagobert  drew  from  his  pocket. 

Then,  as  if  influenced  by  a  simultaneous  burst  of  filial  reverence, 
they  each  silently  kissed  the  hand-writing  of  their  father. 

"  You  will  perceive,  my  children,  in  perusing  these  pages,  why  it 
was  I  felt  so  much  surprise  when  you  told  me  that  your  guardian  angel, 
who  has  visited  you  in  your  dreams,  was  named  Gabriel.  But  read — 
read,"  continued  the  soldier,  observing  the  astonished  looks  of  the 
sisters.  "  Only,  I  ought  to  tell  you  beforehand,  that  when  your  father 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL.  51 

wrote  (hese  lines  he  had  not  then  encountered  the  individual  who  was 
the  bearer  of  these  papers  to  your  mother." 

Rose,  sitting  up  in  her  bed,  took  the  leaves  and  commenced  reading 
iu  a  soft  and  tremulous  voice. 

While  Blanche,  her  head  reclining  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  lis- 
tened with  profound  attention,  the  motion  of  her  lips  evincing  how 
closely  she  followed  each  sound,  and  that  she,  too,  read  mentally. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON*S  JOURNAL. 

"  Bivouac  of  the  Mountains  of  A  va, 
"  20th  February,  1830. 

"  EACH  time  that  I  add  to  the  sheets  of  my  journal,  now  written  in 
the  upper  part  of  India,  where  my  fate  and  wandering  destiny  have 
thrown  me — a  journal  which,  perhaps,  thou,  my  ever-loved  Eva, 
mayst  never  read — I  experience  sensations  so  painful,  yet  so  dear  to 
me;  for  it  is  a  consolation  thus  to  commune  with  thee,  dearest,  and 
yet  my  regrets  are  never  more  bitter  than  when  I  thus  speak  to,  but 
do  not  see,  thee. 

"  If  ever  these  pages  shall  come  before  thine  eyes,  thy  generous 
heart  will  beat  at  the  name  of  that  intrepid  being  to  whom  I  owe  my 
life,  to  whom  I  shall,  perhaps,  owe  the  happiness  of  one  day  again 
beholding  thee  and  our  child — for  it  lives,  does  it  not — our  dear 
child  ?  I  must  hope  so,  for  else,  dear  wife,  what  must  be  your  life, 
spent  in  lonely  exile  ?  Dear  angel,  it  must  be  now  fourteen  years  of 
age.  Who  is  it  like  ?  To  thee,  dearest — is  it  not?  It  has,  I  know, 
thy  large  and  lovely  blue  eyes.  Fool  that  I  am  !  How  many  times 
in  this  long  journal  have  I  not  already  asked  this  question,  to  which 
thou  canst  not  reply  ?  How  many  times  ? — and  yet  I  shall  again  do 
so.  Thou  must  teach  our  child  to  pronounce  and  love  the  name, 
however  strange,  of  Djalma." 

"  Djalma !"  said  Rose,  who,  with  moistened  eyes,  interrupted  the 
reading. 

"  Djalma !"  replied  Blanche,  who  shared  her  sister's  emotion  ; 
"  oh  I  we  shall  never  forget  this  name." 

"  And  you  will  be  right,  my  children  ;  for  it  seems  it  is  that  of  a 
soldier,  very  famous  though  very  young.  Go  on,  my  little  Rose." 

Rose  resumed, — 

"  I  have  told  you,  dearest  Eva,  in  the  preceding  sheets,  of  the  two 
good  days  which  we  had  during  this  month.  The  troops  of  my  old 
friend,  the  Indian  prince,  improving  daily  in  their  European  discipline, 
have  done  wonders.  We  have  driven  back  the  English,  and  com- 
pelled them  to  evacuate  a  part  of  this  unhappy  country,  invaded  by 
them  in  contempt  of  all  right,  all  justice;  and  which  they  have  ravaged 
most  mercilessly,  for  here  English  warfare  is  only  in  other  words 
treason,  pillage,  and  massacre.  This  morning,  after  a  forced  inarch 


52  THE  WANDERING  JEW, 

through  rivers  and  over  mountains,  we  learn  by  our  spies  that  rein- 
forcements had  reached  the  enemy,  who  was  preparing  to  assume  the 
offensive.  They  were  only  a  few  leagues  off,  and  an  engagement  was 
inevitable.  My  old  friend,  the  Indian  prince,  the  father  of  my  pre- 
server, was  eager  for  the  onset  The  affair  began  at  three  o'clock, 
and  was  fierce  and  bloody.  As  I  saw  a  moment  of  indecision  in  our 
lines,  for  we  were  much  inferior  in  numbers,  and  the  English  rein- 
forcements were  quite  fresh,  I  charged  at  the  head  of  our  small  body 
of  cavalry. 

"  The  old  prince  was  in  the  centre,  fighting  as  he  always  fights, 
most  valorously.  His  son  Djalma,  hardly  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
as  brave  as  his  father,  was  at  my  side,  when,  in  the  hottest  of  the 
fight,  my  horse  was  killed  under  me,  and  rolled  with  me  down  a  bank, 
on  the  edge  of  which  we  were  at  the  moment,  and  I  was  so  completely 
under  him  that  for  an  instant  I  fancied  my  thigh  was  broken." 

"  Poor  father  ! "  said  Blanche. 

"  Fortunately,  this  time  nothing  serious  did  happen  to  him,  thanks 
to  Djalma.  You  see,  Dagobert,  I  remember  the  name,"  remarked 
Rose,  who  then  continued, — 

"  The  English,  thinking  that  if  they  killed  me  (very  flattering  for 
me)  they  should  easily  subdue  the  prince's  army,  an  officer  and  five 
or  six  irregular  soldiers — brutal  and  cowardly  robbers  I — seeing  me  roll 
down  the  ravine,  rushed  after  to  slay  me.  In  the  midst  of  the  fire  and 
smoke,  our  gallant  fellows  had  not  seen  my  fall ;  but  Djalma  never 
quitted  me,  and,  leaping  down  the  bank  to  my  rescue,  by  his  calm 
intrepidity  saved  my  life.  With  one  of  the  double  barrels  of  his 
carbine  he  laid  the  officer  dead,  and  with  the  other  broke  the  arm  of 
the  miscreant  who  had  stabbed  my  left  hand  with  his  bayonet ;  but 
my  Eva  need  not  feel  alarm — it  is  only  a  scratch " 

"Wounded  —  wounded  again!  Mon  Dieu !"  cried  Blanche, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  interrupting  her  sister. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing  ! "  said  Dagobert ;  "  it  was  only  a  scratch,  as 
the  general  said.  He  used  to  call  the  wounds  which  did  not  prevent, 
him  from  fighting  '  white  wounds.'  He  always  found  out  the  right 
word  for  every  thing." 

"  Djalma  seeing  me  wounded,"  continued  Rose,  wiping  her  eye, 
"  used  his  heavy  carbine  for  a  club,  and  drove  back  my  assailants, 
when,  at  this  moment,  I  saw  a  fresh  adversary  concealed  behind  a 
clump  of  bamboos,  which  commanded  the  ravine,  who,  placing  the 
barrel  of  his  long  fusil  between  two  branches,  blowed  in  his  slow-light, 
and  took  deliberate  aim  at  Djalma,  and  the  brave  youth  received  a 
ball  in  his  chest,  before  ray  cries  could  put  him  on  his  guard.  Feeling 
himself  struck,  he  retreated  in  spite  of  himself  for  two  paces,  and  fell 
on  his  knee,  but  still  keeping  erect  and  trying  to  make  for  me  a 
rampart  of  his  body.  Conceive  my  rage,  my  despair  I  Unfortunately 
my  efforts  to  disengage  myseif  were  paralysed  by  the  excruciating 
agony  which  I  experienced  in  my  thigh.  Powerless  and  weaponless, 
I  looked  for  some  moments  at  this  unequal  conflict. 

"  Djalma  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  blood — his  arm  grew  weak  ;  and 
one  of  the  skirmishers,  encouraging  the  others  with  his  voice,  took 
from  his  belt  a  large  and  heavy  axe,  which  would  decapitate  a  man  at  a 
single  blow,  when,  at  the  moment,  a  dozen  of  our  men  reached  the  spot. 


DJALMA    PROTECTING    GENERAL    SIMON. 
p  a. 


UNIVERSITY  Ut  I 
LIBRARY 


<'lu|ini;tii  an<l  Hall.     IYI>ru:ir>  l. 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL.  53 

Djalma  was  delivered  in  his  turn,  and  they  disengaged  me.  At  the 
end  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  was  able  to  mount  another  horse,  and  we 
eventually  gained  the  day,  though  with  immense  loss.  To-morrow  the 
affair  must  be  decisive,  for  I  can  see  the  fires  of  the  English  bivouac 
from  this  spot.  Thus  my  Eva  will  see  how  I  am  indebted  for  life  to 
this  youth.  Fortunately,  his  wound  is  harmless,  the  ball  having 
glanced  along  his  ribs." 

"  The  brave'lad  would  say,  with  the  general, '  only  a  white  wound,1" 
said  Dagobert. 

"  Now,  my  beloved  Eva,"  Rose  read  on,  "  you  must  know,  by 
my  recital,  the  intrepid  Djalma,  who  is  scarcely  eighteen  years  of  age 
— in  one  word,  I  will  paint  to  you  his  noble  and  courageous  nature  : 
in  his  country  they  sometimes  bestow  surnames,  and,  from  fifteen  years 
old,  he  has  been  called  ' the  Generous*  Generous,  indeed,  in  heart 
and  soul.  By  another  custom  of  the  country,  as  peculiar  as  it  is 
touching,  this  surname  has  ascended  to  his  father,  who  is  termed  ( the 
Father  of  the  Generous;  '  and  he  might  well  be  styled  the  Just,  for  the 
old  Indian  is  a  rare  specimen  of  chivalrous  loyalty  and  proud  indepen- 
dence. He  might,  as  so  many  other  poor  princes  in  this  land  have  done, 
humble  himself  to  the  dust  before  the  execrable  English  despotism, 
treat  for  the  sale  of  his  sovereignty,  and  surrender  to  force ;  but  no 
— *  My  whole  right,  or  a  ditch  in  the  mountains  tchere  I  was  born,1 — 
such  is  his  motto.  It  is  not  boasting,  it  is  the  consciousness  of 
what  is  right  and  just.  '  But  you  will  be  ground  to  powder  in  the 
struggle,'  I  have  said  to  him.  His  reply  was,  '  My  friend,  if  to  com- 
pel you  to  a  disgraceful  action  you  were  told  to  yield  or  die  ?'  From 
this  day  I  fully  understood  his  character,  and  have  devoted  myself, 
body  and  soul,  to  the  cause — the  sacred  cause — of  the  weak  against 
the  strong.  You  see,  my  Eva,  that  Djalma  is  worthy  of  such  a  sire. 
This  young  Indian's  courage  is  so  heroic, 'so  intense,  that  he  fights  like 
a  young  Greek  in  the  age  of  Leonidas,  with  a  bare  breast,  while  the 
other  soldiers  of  his  country,  who  in  time  of  peace  have  the  shoulders, 
arms,  and  breasts  uncovered,  put  on  a  thick  war-coat  when  they  go  to 
battle.  The  rash  intrepidity  of  this  youth  reminds  me  of  the  King  of 
Naples,  of  whom  I  have  often  spoken  to  you,  and  whom  I  have  seen 
a  hundred  times  charge  at  the  head  of  his  troops  with  no  other  arms 
in  his  hand  than  a  riding-whip." 

"  Ah !  he  is  one  of  those  I  told  you  of,"  said  Dagobert,  "  and  with 
whom  the  Emperor  amused  himself  in  making  him  a  king.  I  saw  a 
Prussian  officer,  a  prisoner,  whose  face  the  King  of  Naples  had 
marked  in  his  rage  with  his  whip.  It  was  black  and  blue.  The 
Prussian  swore  an  oath,  and  said  he  was  dishonoured,  and  that  he 
would  rather  have  had  a  sabre-cut.  I  believe  him.  That  devil  of  a 
monarch — he  only  knew  one  way  of  doing  business,  that  was  to  march 
straight  up  to  the  cannon.  As  soon  as  a  cannonade  began,  he  declared 
that  it  called  him  by  all  his  names,  and  ran  up  to  it,  saying,  '  Here  I 
am.'  If  I  speak  of  him  to  you,  my  dears,  it  is  because  he  often  said, 
'  No  one  can  cut  through  a  square  that  bids  defiance  to  General  Simou 
or  myself.'" 

Rose  proceeded:— 

"  I  have  remarked,  with  pain,  that,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  Djalma 
often  had  fits  of  deep  melancholy.  Sometimes  I  have  detected  between 


54  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

him  and  bis  father  singular  looks,  and,  in  spite  of  our  mutual  regard, 
I  believe  that  they  keep  from  me  some  painful  family  secret,  if  I 
may  judge  from  a  few  words  which  at  times  escape  from  them,  and 
which  1  believe  involves  some  singular  event,  to  which  their  ima- 
ginations, naturally  excited  and  romantic,  have  given  a  supernatural 
character. 

"  But  you  know,  my  love,  that  we  ourselves  have  lost  the  right  of 
ridiculing  the  credulity  of  any  persons,— rl,  since  my  campaign  in 
France,  wherein  that  very  singular  adventure  occurred  to  me,  which 
mystery  I  have  never  been  able  to  solve." 

"  He  means  of  the  man  who  threw  himself  before  the  mouth  of  the. 
cannon,"  said  Dagobert. 

"  And  you,"  the  young  girl  resumed  her  perusal,  "my  Eva  dear, 
since  the  visits  of  that  young  and  lovely  woman,  whom  your  mother 
said  she  had  seen  at  her  mother's  forty  years  previously." 

The  orphans  looked  at  the  soldier  with  astonishment. 

"  Your  mother  never  mentioned  that  to  me,  nor  the  general  either ; 
it's  as  strange  to  me  as  to  you." 

Rose  resumed,  with  much  emotion  and  increasing  curiosity : 

"  After  all,  my  dear  Eva,  things  often  very  extraordinary  in  ap- 
pearance are  explained  by  some  chance,  some  resemblance,  or  some 
caprice  of  nature.  The  marvellous  being  always  only  some  optical 
illusion,  or  the  result  of  an  imagination  already  deeply  impressed,  the 
time  comes  when  that  which  seemed  superhuman  or  supernatural  turns 
out  an  event  the  most  probable  and  explicable  in  the  world  ;  and  so  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  what  we  call  our  prodigies  will,  one  day  or 
other,  come  before  us  fully  and  naturally  explained." 

"  You  see,  my  children,  that  what  at  first  is  wonderful,  is  after- 
wards very  simple — though  that  does  not  prevent  us  from  being  a  long 
time  before  we  find  out  its  meaning." 

"  As  our  father  says  so,  we  must  believe  it,  and  not  be  surprised — 
must  we  not,  sister  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  because,  some  day  or  other,  it  will  be  all  explained." 

"Now,"  said  Dagobert,  after  brief  reflection — "a  comparison. 
You  two  are  so  alike,  you  know,  that  any  one  who  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  seeing  you  every  day  would  easily  mistake  one  for  the  other. 
Well,  if  he  did  not  know — if  I  may  say  so — that  you  were  double, 
only  see  how  astonished  he  would  be.  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  would 
think  the  devil  was  in  it,  apropos  of  good  little  angels  as  you  are." 

"  You  are  right,  Dagobert ;  and  in  this  way,  as  our  father  says, 
many  things  may  be  accounted  for" — and  Hose  continued : 

"  My  dear  Eva,  it  is  with  no  little  pleasure  that  I  find  that  Djalma 
has  French  blood  in  his  veins :  his  father  married,  many  years  ago, 
a  young  girl  whose  family,  of  French  extraction,  was  long  settled  in 
Batavia,  in  the  isle  of  Java.  This  similarity  of  position  beweeu  my 
old  friend  and  myself  has  made  our  friendship  the  more  close ;  for 
your  family  also,  Eva,  is  of  French  descent,  and  long  since  established 
in  a  strange  land.  Unfortunately,  the  prince,  some  years  since,  lost 
the  wife  he  adored. 

"  Alas,  my  beloved,  my  hand  trembles  as  I  write.  I  am  weak — 
I  am  a  child — my  heart  is  wounded,  broken.  If  such  a  misfortune 
should  occur !  Oh  Heaven  I  and  our  child,  what  would  become  of  it 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL.  55 

without  you — without  me  —  in  that  barbarous  clime ?  No!  no!  the 
fear  is  absurd ;  but  what  horrid  torture  is  uncertainty  !  Where,  then, 
are  you?  Wh.it  are  you  doing?  What  has  become  of  you?  For- 
give these  gloomy  thoughts,  which  come  over  me  so  often  in  spite  of 
myself  I  Cheerless  momenta — desolate — for,  when  they  come,  I  say, 
'  I  am  a  proscribed  man,  unhappy ;  but  still,  at  least,  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  world,  there  are  two  hearts  that  still  beat  for  me,  thine,  my  Eva, 
and  that  of  our  child  ! '  " 

Rose  could  hardly  complete  these  last  words,  her  voice  was  almost 
choked  with  her  sobs. 

There  was,  in  truth,  a  sad  coincidence  between  the  fears  of  the 
general  and  the  mournful  reality ;  and  what  could  be  more  affecting 
than  these  remarks,  written  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  by  the  light  of  the 
bivouac  fire,  by  a  soldier,  who  thus  sought  to  allay  the  anguish  of  a 
separation  so  painful,  but  which,  at  the  moment,  he  did  not  know  to 
be  eternal  ? 

"  Poor  general !  he  did  not  know  our  misfortune,"  said  Dagobert, 
after  a  moment's  silence  ;  ;'  and  neither  did  he  know  that,  instead  of  one 
child,  he  has  two — that  will  be  some  comfort  to  him ;  but  now, 
Blanche,  do  you  go  on  reading,  I  fear  your  sister  will  be  tired ;  she  is 
too  much  excited, — and,  besides,  it  is  only  right  that  you  should  share 
the  pleasure  and  the  pain  of  the  reading." 

Blanche  took  the  letter,  and  Rose,  wiping  her  eyes,  which  over- 
flowed with  tears,  leaned  in  her  turn  her  lovely  head  on  her  sister's 
shoulder,  who  thus  proceeded, — 

"  I  am  calmer  now,  iny  loved  one.  I  ceased  to  write  for  a  moment. 
I  have  driven  my  dark  thoughts  away,  and  let  us  resume  our  con- 
versation. 

"  After  having  so  much,  at  length,  discoursed  to  you  of  India,  I 
will  say  a  word  or  two  of  Europe.  Yesterday  evening  one  of  our 
men,  a  safe  hand,  came  to  our  advanced  post,  he  brought  me  a  letter 
from  France,  which  had  been  forwarded  to  Calcutta.  I  have  news 
from  my  father,  and  ray  uneasiness  is  removed.  This  letter  is  dated  in 
August  last,  and  I  find  that  many  letters  are  lost  or  miscarried,  for, 
during  nearly  two  years,  I  have  not  had  one,  and  was,  therefore, 
deeply  anxious  about  him.  Excellent  father,  always  the  same — age 
has  not  weakened  his  energetic  mind ;  and  his  health  is  as  robust  as 
ever,  he  tells  me.  He  is  still  a  mechanic,  and  rejoices  in  it  as  much 
as  ever ;  always  faithful  to  his  strong  republican  bias,  and  full  of  hope 
yet :  for,  said  he,  '  the  time  is  at  hand,'  and  these  last  words  were 
underlined.  He  also  gave  me,  as  you  will  see,  excellent  accounts  of 
the  family  of  our  good,  faithful  friend  and  follower,  Dagobert.  Be- 
lieve me,  dearest  Eva,  it  is  a  considerable  diminution  of  my  grief  to 
reflect  that  you  have  so  true  and  devoted  a  man  near  you,  for  well  I 
know  that  he  would  never  forsake  you  in  your  exile.  What  sterling 
worth  lies  hid  beneath  his  rough  exterior ;  a  heart  pure  and  valuable 
as  gold,  yet  firm  and  unbending  as  iron.  I  can  suppose  how  tenderly 
he  loves  our  child  I " 

While  this  passage  was  being  read,  Dagobert  was  suddenly  seized 
with  a  most  unusual  attack  of  coughing,  occasionally  looking  down  and 
searching  most  diligently  for  a  small  checked  pocket-handkerchief, 
which  happened  at  that  very  moment  to  be  lying  across  his  knees. 


56  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

He  remained  in  liis  stooping  position  for  some  brief  space,  then,  reco- 
vering himself,  commenced  stroking  his  moustache. 

"  How  well  our  dear  father  understood  and  appreciated  you ! " 

"  And  how  rightly  he  foresaw  how  tenderly  you  would  love  us !" 

"  Enough,  enough  !  dear  children,  don't  let  us  say  any  more  about 
that ;  but  go  on  to  where  your  father  (the  general)  mentions  my  little 
Agricola  and  Gabriel,  the  adopted  son  of  my  wife — dear  wife,  when  I 

think  that  perhaps  ere  three  months But  proceed,  my  dear 

children.  Read,  read,"  added  the  soldier,  striving  to  repress  his  emotion. 

"  Spite  of  myself,  dear  Eva,  I  cherish  the  hope  that  these  pages 
will  one  day  reach  you,  and  with  that  idea  I  shall  write  what  I  think 
may  also  be  interesting  to  our  good  Dagobert,  and  I  know  well  how 
delighted  he  will  be  to  receive  tidings  of  his  family.  My  father,  who 
still  superintends  the  business  of  his  worthy  employer,  M.  Hardy, 
informs  me  that  this  latter  has  taken  Dagobert's  son  into  his  workshop, 
and  Agricola  is  employed  under  the  immediate  superintendence  of  my 
father,  who  is  delighted  with  his  skill  and  docility  :  he  speaks  of  him  as 
an  amiable  and  clever  youth,  who  makes  no  more  of  the  heavy  tools  re- 
quired in  his  work  than  he  would  of  using  a  child's  toy.  As  light-hearted 
as  industrious  and  intelligent,  he  bids  fair  to  become  the  head  work- 
man in  the  establishment :  yet,  after  his  day's  toil  is  over,  his  great 
delight  is  to  return  to  his  adored  mother,  and,  sitting  by  her  side, 
compose  verses  and  patriotic  songs  of  extraordinary  merit ;  indeed, 
the  rich  vein  of  poetry  which  runs  through  these  productions,  combined 
with  the  purity  and  sublimity  of  the  expressions,  have  caused  them  to 
become  exclusively  the  songs  sung  by  all  the  workmen  in  the  work- 
shops of  Paris;  and  well  are  they  calculated  to  touch  the  coldest  hearts, 
and  by  their  stirring  energy  to  rouse  and  excite  even  the  weak  and 
timid  to  virtuous  deeds." 

"  Oh  !  how  proud  you  must  be  of  such  a  son,  Dagobert,"  said 
Rose,  her  sweet  face  beaming  with  admiration  ;  "  he  composes  songs, 
you  see." 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed  a  fine  thing  to  hear  all  this;  but  what  princi- 
pally delights  me  is  to  learn  how  much  he  loves  his  mother,  and  that 
he  is  skilful  and  strong  in  the  management  of  heavy  tools.  Ah  !  only 
a  man  capable  of  making  the  iron  ring  well  on  the  anvil  could  have 
had  the  soul  to  write  such  beautiful  songs  as  the  '  R&veil  du  Peuple,' 
and  'La  Marseillaise  /'  but  where  Agricola  picked  it  all  up  is  more 
than  I  can  think.  I  dare  say,  though,  he  learned  all  those  sort  of  fine 
things  at  the  school  where,  as  you  will  find,  he  went  with  his  adopted 
brother,  Gabriel." 

At  this  name,  which  recalled  to  the  sisters  the  imaginary  being 
they  styled  their  guardian  angel,  their  curiosity  was  deeply  excited, 
and  Blanche,  with  redoubled  attention,  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Agricola's  adopted  brother,  the  poor  deserted  child  so  generously 
protected  by  the  wife  of  our  excellent  Dagobert,  is,  I  am  told,  the 
most  perfect  contrast  to  himself,  not  as  regards  the  goodness  of  his 
heart,  for  in  that  respect  the  youths  are  equal,  but  in  character  and 
disposition.  Agricola  is  endowed  with  the  most  buoyant  gaiety  and 
unfailing  flow  of  spirits,  ever  in  action,  and  prompt  to  create  and  par- 
ticipate in  all  mirthful  pastimes,  while — while  Gabriel  is  melancholy  and 
thoughtful.  My  father  further  adds,  you  may  read  in  the  countenances 


FRAGMENTS  OF  GENERAL  SIMON'S  JOURNAL.  57 

of  these  youths  the  faithful  index  of  their  opposite  characters.  Agri- 
cola  is  tall  and  muscular,  his  tine  dark  complexion  beaming  with  health 
and  manly  courage :  Gabriel,  on  the  contrary,  has  a  thin,  slight  figure, 
by  no  means  indicative  of  health  or  strength ;  he  has  the  delicate  com- 
plexion and  soft  hair  of  a  woman,  and  his  timid,  gentle  manner  gives 
an  almost  angelic  sweetness  to  his  whole  appearance." 

The  orphans  surveyed  each  other  in  utter  amazement;  then  turn- 
ing their  ingenuous  looks  towards  Dagobert,  Rose  exclaimed, — • 

"  Why,  Dagobert,  this  is  precisely  the  description  of  our  Gabriel. 
Yours  has  fair  features,  light  curling  locks,  and  the  look  of  an  angel, — 
so  has  ours." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  the  resemblance  is  perfect ;  and  that  was  the  cause  of 
my  being  so  astonished  when  you  related  to  me  your  dream." 

"  Are  you  sure  he  had  blue  eyes?"  inquired  Rose. 

"  As  for  that,  my  child,  though  the  general  says  nothing  about  it, 
I  should  say  he  certainly  had,  for  I  believe  all  very  fair  people  do  have 
blue  eyes;  however,  black  or  blue,  he  must  not  use  them  to  admire 
young  girls — wherefore,  you  will  find  out  as  you  proceed." 

Blanche  resumed, — 

"  The  almost  supernatu rally  angelic  expression  of  Gabriel's  counte- 
nance attracted  the  attention  of  a  holy  brother  in  one  of  our  public 
schools,  which,  in  company  with  Agricola  and  the  children  of  the 
neighbourhood,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  attending.  This  holy  man 
mentioned  him  to  a  high  dignitary  of  the  church,  who  had  sufficient 
interest  to  place  him  in  one  of  our  seminaries,  and  it  is  now  more  than 
two  years  since  he  took  the  vows  of  the  order.  He  is  intended  to  be 
sent  abroad  as  a  missionary,  and  will,  ere  long,  depart  for  America." 

"  Then  your  Gabriel  is  a  monk,"  said  Rose,  looking  at  Dagobert, 
somewhat  dismayed. 

"  And  ours  is  an  angel ! "  added  Blanche. 

"  Which  certainly  proves  that  your  Gabriel  holds  a  higher  rank 
than  mine.  Well !  every  one  to  their  choice  !  but  I  am  very  glad  it 
was  not  my  boy  took  a  fancy  to  a  priest's  coat.  I  would  rather  a 
thousand  times  see  my  Agricola's  muscular  frame  clad  in  a  workman's 
dress,  a  leathern  apron  tied  before  him,  and  his  brawny  arm  wielding  a 
hammer,  after  the  fashion  of  your  venerable  grandfather,  my  children, 
and  the  parent  of  Marshal  Simon,  Duke  de  Ligny ;  for  after  all,  the 
general  holds  that  rank,  through  the  emperor's  own  creation.  Now 
conclude  your  manuscript." 

"  Thus,  therefore,  my  tender  Eva,  should  this  journal  ever  reach 
you,  you  will  have  the  gratification  of  tranquillising  Dagobert  as  to  the 
present  prospects  of  his  wife  and  son,  whom  he  quitted  to  serve  and 
assist  us.  How  shall  I  ever  repay  so  great  a  sacrifice  ?  But  he  is 
with  you,  and  well  I  know  your  noble  and  generous  heart  will  try 
hard  to  devise  some  adequate  mode  of  acquitting  our  heavy  debt  of 
gratitude. 

••  Again,  and  again,  adieu,  Eva,  best  beloved !  For  one  instant  I 
quitted  my  journal  to  visit  the  tent  of  Djalma.  I  found  him  sleeping 
peacefully,  his  father  watching  beside  him.  A  single  gesture  made  by 
the  anxious  parent  sufficed  to  convince  me  no  further  alarm  was  enter- 
tained for  the  safety  of  the  intrepid  young  man.  May  he  be  equally 
preserved  from  the  perils  of  the  approaching  fight.  Farewell,  my 


58  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tender  wife  I  The  night  is  calm  and  still :  one  by  one  the  watch-fires 
burn  out  and  become  gradually  extinct :  our  brave  mountaineers  repose 
after  the  fearful  combat  of  yesterday,  and  no  sound  is  heard  but  the 
distant  call  of  our  sentinels ;  their  words,  as  they  strike  on  my  ear, 
uttered  in  the  language  of  their  country,  recall  me  from  my  temporary 
delusion,  and  remind  me  of  what,  when  thus  conversing  with  you,  I 
entirely  forget,  namely,  that  oceans  divide  us — that  I  am  far,  far  from 
you  and  our  child.  Beloved  beings,  what  is  your  present  condition  — 
what  will  your  future  destiny  be  ?  Ah  !  could  I  but  convey  to  you 
that  medal  I  so  unfortunately  brought  away  with  me  from  Warsaw, 
perhaps  you  might  obtain  permission  to  proceed  with  it  to  France,  or 
at  least,  to  send  your  child  thither  with  Dagobert ;  for  you  know,  well 
know,  the  importance  attached  to  it :  but  why  add  this  vexation  to  the 
many  troubles  which  already  oppress  us  ?  Unfortunately,  years  are 
rolling  on  :  the  fatal  day  will  arrive,  and  the  last  hope  to  which  I  cling 
will  be  taken  from  me." 

"  But  I  will  not  end  this  day  mournfully.  Once  more,  my  Eva! 
— my  love! — my  wife  ! — farewell!  Press  our  infant  to  your  heart, 
and  while  you  cover  it  with  kisses,  say  that  they  come  from  an  adoring, 
though  exiled  husband  and  father,  who  would  peril  his  life  to  bestow 
them  himself  on  his  loved  ones. 

"  Till  the  termination  of  to-morrow's  conflict,  adieu  !  adieu  I " 

A  long  silence  succeeded  the  perusal  of  this  touching  paper,  the 
tears  of  the  sisters  alone  faintly  breaking  the  stillness  which  prevailed  ; 
while  Dagobert,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  was  lost  in  deep  and 
painful  meditation. 

The  wind  increased  in  violence,  and  blew  in  gusts  along  the  old 
passage,  while  the  otherwise  profound  quiet  which  prevailed  in  the 
inn  was  broken  only  by  the  heavy  drops  of  rain  which  descended  in 
torrents  and  pattered  against  the  window-panes. 

*  *  *  *  * 

While  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  were  occupied  in  the  affect- 
ing task  of  reading  these  fragments  from  their  father's  journal,  a  strange 
and  mysterious  scene  was  passing  within  the  menagerie  belonging  to 
Morok,  the  brute-conqueror. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  CAGES. 

MOROK  had  armed  himself.  Over  his  vest  of  chamois  leather  he 
had  put  on  his  coat  of  mail ;  a  tissue  of  steel,  as  flexible  as  linen,  and 
as  hard  as  adamant.  He  had  buckled  his  cuishes  on  his  thighs,  his 
greaves  upon  his  legs,  his  brassards  on  his  arms,  and  covered  his  feet 
with  iron-plate  shoes ;  concealing  all  this  defensive  attire  with  a  long 
and  loose  pantaloon,  and  an  ample  pelisse  carefully  buttoned  up,  whilst 
in  his  hand  he  bore  a  long  rod  of  iron,  heated  in  the  fire,  and  held  by 
its  wooden  handle. 

Although  his  tiger  Cain,  his   lion  Judas,  and  his  black  panther 


THE  CAGES.  50 

La  Mort,  had  long  since  been  subdued  by  his  address  and  energy,  yet 
at  times  these  brutes,  in  a  fit  of  anger,  would  try  their  teeth  and  nails 
upon  him  ;  but,  thanks  to  the  armour  which  his  pelisse  covered,  they 
had  but  struck  their  nails  on  a  surface  of  steel,  blunted  their  teeth  on 
arms  or  legs  of  iron,  whilst  a  slight  shake  of  the  metal  rod  of  their 
master  made  their  hides  smoke  and  shrivel  up,  thus  furrowed  by  a  deep 
and  smarting  burn. 

Finding  that  their  bites  were  useless,  these  animals,  whose  memo- 
ries are  vastly  retentive,  understood  that  henceforward  it  were  vain  to 
try  their  claws  and  teeth  on  an  invulnerable  being.  So  greatly  did 
their  crouching  submission  increase,  that  in  their  public  displays,  their 
master,  at  the  least  movement  of  a  small  cane,  covered  with  flame- 
coloured  paper,  made  them  shrink  and  cringe  at  his  feet  in  an  agony 
of  fear. 

The  prophet,  carefully  armed,  and  holding  in  his  hand  the  rod, 
heated  by  Goliath,  descended  the  trap  of  the  garret,  which  was  over 
the  large  shed  in  which  the. cages  of  his  animals  were  placed.  A  thin 
partition  of  planks  separated  this  shed  from  the  stable  in  which  were 
the  horses  of  the  tamer  of  beasts. 

A  reflecting  light  threw  its  full  beams  over  these  cages.  They  were 
four  in  number. 

A  grating  of  iron,  tolerably  wide,  was  round  the  sides.  On  one 
side  this  grating  turned  on  hinges  like  a  door,  so  that  the  animals  which 
they  enclosed  could  come  out.  The  floors  of  these  cages  were  on 
axletrees  and  four  small  iron  wheels,  so  that  they  were  thus  easily 
drawn  to  the  large  covered  van  in  which  they  were  placed  during  their 
journeys.  One  of  these  was  empty,  the  three  others  were  closed,  and 
in  them,  as  we  know,  were  a  panther,  a  tiger,  and  a  lion. 

The  panther  was  from  Java,  and  seemed,  by  its  lowering  and  savage 
look,  to  deserve  its  name  of  La  Mort. 

Completely  black,  it  remained  coiled  up  into  the  smallest  compass 
at  the  farther  end  of  its  cage.  The  colour  of  its  skin  was  mingled 
with  the  obscurity  that  surrounded  it,  so  that  its  shape  could  not  be 
made  out,  and  only  two  burning  and  fixed  fires  could  be  seen — two 
large  eye-balls  of  a  phosphorescent  yellow,  which  only  shone  out  at  night; 
for  all  the  animals  of  the  feline  genus  see  perfectly  only  at  night,  or  in 
the  midst  of  darkness. 

The  prophet  had  entered  the  stable  very  silently — the  deep  red 
of  his  pelisse  contrasting  with  the  light  and  yellow  hue  of  his  straight 
hair  and  long  beard.  The  lamp  was  so  placed  that  it  completely 
lighted  up  the  man,  and  the  breadth  of  its  beams,  contrasted  with  the 
darkness  of  the  shadow,  brought  out  more  fully  the  prominent  features 
of  his  harsh  and  bony  countenance. 

He  approached  slowly  towards  the  cage. 

The  white  ring,  which  encircled  his  glaring  eyeball,  seemed  to 
expand,  whilst  his  eye  rivalled,  in  brilliancy  and  fixedness,  the  glaring 
and  steadfast  gaze  of  the  panther. 

Though  crouching  in  the  darkness,  she  yet  felt  the  influence  of  her 
master's  commanding  look,  and  twice  or  thrice  closed  her  eyelids 
hastily,  uttering  an  angry  but  low  growl ;  then  her  eyes  reopening 
in  spite  of  herself  became  immovably  fixed  on  those  of  the  prophet. 

Then  the  round  ears  of  La  Mort  fell  back  on  her  neck,  flattened 


60  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

like  that  of  a  snake,  the  skin  of  her  forehead  wrinkled  convulsively, 
\\liile  she  drew  up  her  nostrils,  covered  with  long  bristles,  and  twice 
silently  opened  her  wide  jaw,  armed  with  formidable  fangs. 

At  this  moment  a  kind  of  magnetic  sympathy  seemed  to  be  carried 
on  between  the  look  of  the  man  and  the  beast. 

The  prophet  stretched  towards  the  cage  his  rod  of  heated  steel,  and 
said,  in  a  harsh  and  imperious  tone, — 

"  La  Mort,  come  hither  1" 

The  panther  arose,  but  crouched  so  greatly,  that  her  belly  and 
hocks  still  dragged  along  the  floor.  She  was  three  feet  high,  and 
nearly  five  feet  long,  her  chine  was  supple  and  fleshy,  her  hams  as 
lengthy  and  as  deep  as  those  of  a  race-horse,  her  chest  wide,  her 
shoulders  broad  and  projecting,  her  paws  flat  and  strongly  nerved, — all 
evincing  that  this  formidable  beast  united  strength  with  suppleness  and 
vigour  with  activity. 

Morok,  with  his  rod  of  iron  extended  towards  the  cage,  made  a 
step  towards  the  panther. 

The  panther  made  a  step  towards  the  prophet. 

He  paused. 

La  Mort  paused  likewise. 

At  this  moment  the  tiger  Judas,  who,  as  Morok  stood,  was  behind 
him,  as  though  jealous  of  the  notice  bestowed  by  his  master  on  the 
panther,  uttered  a  furious  growl;  and,  throwing  back  his  head,  dis- 
played his  formidable  triangular  jaw  and  deep-set  powerful  chest  of 
dusky  white,  whence  arose  the  first  shades  of  tawny,  mingled  with 
black,  which  constituted  the  colour  of  his  coat.  His  tail,  like  a  huge 
copper-coloured  serpent,  marked  with  clear  black  rings,  was  sometimes 
passively  folded  against  its  flanks,  at  others  employed  in  furiously 
lashing  them  with  a  slow  and  continued  movement,  while  his  green 
transparent  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  prophet. 

Such  was  the  influence  possessed  by  this  man  over  the  animals, 
that  Judas,  at  a  glance  from  his  master,  ceased  his  roaring,  and  quailed 
in  profound  submission  to  his  will ;  no  trace,  save  his  loud  and  panting 
respiration,  bearing  evidence  of  his  recent  daring  attempt  at  insub- 
ordination. 

Morok,  who,  at  his  wrathful  cry,  had  instantly  turned  towards  him, 
examined  him  with  steady  attention  for  several  moments.  Immediately 
the  animal  felt  himself  relieved  from  the  controlling  power  of  the  pro- 
phet's eye,  he  returned  to  the  darkest  corner  of  his  cage,  and  quietly 
laid  himself  down. 

A  crackling  noise,  at  once  sharp  and  grating,  similar  to  that  made 
by  beasts  when  gnawing  hard  substances,  now  arose  in  the  lion's  den, 
and  attracted  thither  by  the  uncommon  sound,  Morok  quitted  the 
tiger,  and  proceeded  to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  noise,  as  well  as 
the  nature  of  Cain's  employment. 

Nothing  but  the  huge  tawny  head  of  the  animal  was  visible ;  his 
hind  quarters  were  bent  under  him,  and  his  immense  mane  hung  over 
his  glowing  eyes ;  but  by  the  working  and  tension  of  his  muscles  with 
the  strain  of  his  vertebrae,  it  was  evident  he  was  making  violent  use  of 
his  jaws  and  fore-paws. 

The  prophet's  mind  misgave  him,  and  he  approached  the  cage  in 
utter  alarm,  lest,  contrary  to  his  express  command,  Goliath  should 


THE  CAGES.  61 

have  given  the  beast  food,  the  bones  of  which  he  was  then  gnawing. 
To  ascertain  this  point  he  went  close  to  the  den,  and  exclaimed,  in  a 
sharp,  decisive  tone, — 

"Cain!" 

Cain  did  not  move. 

"  Cain  !  I  say!  come  hither!"  again  cried  Morok,  in  a  still  louder 
voice ;  but  with  no  better  success :  the  lion  stirred  not,  and  the 
grinding  noise  still  went  on. 

"  Cain !  here !  instantly !  summoned  the  prophet  a  third  time ; 
but  as  he  spoke,  he,  on  this  third  appeal  to  his  attention,  applied  his 
rod  of  hot  steel  to  the  flanks  of  the  animal. 

Scarcely  had  a  light  smoke  issued  from  the  scorched  sides  of  the 
creature,  than,  with  a  spring  of  inconceivable  quickness,  he  flew  to  the 
bars  of  his  cage ;  not  merely  rushing  thither,  but  flying  with  one 
bound,  and  so  standing,  and  almost  erect,  he  surveyed  his  tormentor 
with  an  air  of  majestic  grandeur  and  ineffable  rage. 

The  prophet  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  cage,  and  Cain,  in  his  fury, 
and  with  the  desire  of  facing  his  master,  had  presented  his  side  against 
the  bars,  through  which  he  thrust  his  enormous  fore-paw  up  to  the 
shoulder ;  the  limb  still  quivering  with  his  recent  exertions,  and  ex- 
hibiting a  contour  that,  for  strength  and  size,  might  have  vied  even 
with  the  herculean  proportions  of  the  giant  Goliath  himself. 

"  Down,  Cain !  down ! "  said  the  prophet,  eagerly  approaching 
him ;  but  the  furious  beast  refused  compliance ;  his  lips,  drawn  back 
in  utter  rage,  displayed  fangs  as  long  and  formidable  as  those  of  the 
wild  boar. 

Again  Morok  applied  his  wand  of  burning  iron  to  the  lips  of  Cain  ; 
and  this  time,  agonised  by  the  acute  pain  produced  by  burning  so 
sensitive  a  part,  and,  intimidated  by  the  eye  and  voice  of  his  master, 
the  lion  offered  no  further  opposition ;  his  loud  roaring  ceased  and 
subsided  into  a  menacing  growl,  while  his  huge  body,  as  though 
utterly  deprived  of  all  power  of  resistance,  sunk  into  an  attitude  of 
submission  and  dread. 

Morok  lowered  his  lantern,  in  order  to  discover  what  had  so  re- 
cently occupied  the  beast,  when  he  perceived  that  he  had  torn  up  one 
of  the  planks  from  the  bottom  of  his  den,  and  had  been  trying  to 
appease  his  hunger  by  grinding  it  to  pieces  between  his  huge  jaws. 

For  several  instants  the  most  profound  silence  reigned  in  the  me- 
nagerie. The  prophet,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  passed  from  cage 
to  cage,  observing  the  animals  with  a  perplexed,  yet  earnest,  gaze,  as 
though  hesitating  how  to  make  a  difficult  and  important  choice. 
From  time  to  time  he  stopped  at  the  door,  looking  out  on  the  inn 
yard,  and  listened  attentively. 

In  a  few  minutes  it  was  hastily  opened,  and  Goliath  reappeared,  the 
wet  streaming  from  his  garments. 

"  Well ! "  said  the  prophet. 

"  I  have  had  trouble  enough ! "  answered  the  giant.  "  However, 
luckily,  the  night  is  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  it  blows  and  rains  enough  to 
kill  a  fellow!" 

"  Do  they  suspect  any  thing  ?  " 

"I  should  say  not,  master!    No!  you  have  laid  your  plan  too 


62  THE  WANDEtUNO  JEwl 

well.  There  is  a  cellar  just  under  the  room  where  these  young  girls 
are  put  to  sleep ;  and  the  door  of  that  cellar  opens  out  on  the  fields. 
When  you  whistled  to  let  me  know  it  was  time,  I  went  out,  carrying  a 
high  stool,  which  I  placed  against  the  wall,  and  stood  upon  it :  that, 
with  my  own  height,  made  me  at  least  nine  feet,  so  that  I  could  lean 
upon  the  window-frame.  1  held  the  blind  in  one  hand,  and  my  knife 
in  the  other ;  and,  when  I  had  broken  two  squares  of  glass,  I  slammed 
the  blind  as  hard  as  I  could." 

*'  And  they  fancied  it  was  the  wind  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  so  considered  it.  There,  you  see,  one  is  not  quite  such 
a  fool  as  you  might  suppose.  Well,  when  I  had  done  ray  job,  I  made 
all  the  haste  I  could  back  into  the  cellar,  taking  my  stool  with  me. 
In  a  little  while,  I  heard  the  old  man's  voice ;  so  it  was  well  I  had 
been  so  quick." 

"When  I  whistled,  he  had  just  gone  to  his  supper.  I  did  not 
expect  he  would  so  soon  have  finished  it." 

"  Oh !  he  isn't  the  sort  of  man  to  be  long  eating  his  supper,"  re- 
plied the  giant,  contemptuously.  "  Well,  soon  after  the  old  soldier- 
man  had  gone  to  the  young  girls'  room,  and  found  out  about  the  glass 
being  broken,  he  opened  the  window,  and  called  his  dog,  saying, 
'  Seize  him !  hold  him !'  So  I  took  care  to  shut  myself  tight  inside 
the  cellar,  for  if  that  cursed  dog  had  got  hold  of  me,  he  would  have 
split  my  wind-pipe  with  his  fangs." 

"  You  need  have  no  further  fears  of  the  dog,  he  is  safe  in  the 
stable  with  the  horse  ;  but  go  on." 

"  When  I  heard  the  shutter  and  window  shut  again,  I  came  forth 
from  the  cellar ;  and,  putting  my  trestle  as  before,  I  got  on  it  once 
more ;  and,  turning  the  fastening  of  the  shutter  gently,  I  opened  it. 
But  the  two  broken  panes  of  glass  had  been  filled  up  with  the  skirts 
of  the  pelisse,  so  I  could  only  hear,  and  not  see  any  thing.  Well,  then, 
I  moved  the  cloak  a  little  and  saw  the  young  wenches  on  the  bed  with 
their  faces  towards  me,  and  the  old  fellow  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the 
couch  with  his  back  to  me " 

"  And  the  bag — his  bag?     That  is  the  important  thing." 

"  His  bag  was  near  the  window  on  a  table  beside  a  lamp.  I  could 
have  touched  it  by  stretching  out  my  arm." 

"What  did  you  hear?" 

"  As  you  told  me  not  to  attend  to  any  thing  but  the  bag,  I  only 
remember  about  the  bag,  and  the  old  fellow  said  that  his  papers,  the 
general's  letters,  his  money,  and  his  cross  were  in  it" 

"  Good.     What  then  ?  " 

"  As  it  was  difficult  to  hold  the  pelisse  from  the  hole  in  the  window, 
it  fell  out  of  my  hand.  I  tried  to  take  it  up  again,  and  put  my  hand 
so  far  through  the  window,  that  one  of  the  girls  saw  it,  and  shrieked 
out,  pointing  to  the  window." 

"  Cursed  wretch !  — all  is  a  failure,"  exclaimed  the  prophet,  pale 
with  rage. 

"  Listen,  all  is  not  a  failure.  When  I  heard  her  scream,  I  jumped 
down  from  my  trestle,  and  again  hid  myself  in  the  aperture  under.  The 
dog  was  no  longer  there.  I  left  the  door  half  open.  Then  I  heard  the 
window  open,  and  saw  by  the  reflection  that  the  old  fellow  was  holding 


GOLIATH    AT    THE     WINDOW. 
T.   <l.i. 


I.f.n.l.iii:   <  li.-ipman  ami  Hall        April  I.  IM 


THE  CAGES.  68 

a  lamp  out  of  the  window.  He  looked  abont  him ;  but  not  seeing 
any  ladder,  as  the  window  was  too  high  for  any  man  of  ordinary 
stature  to  reach  up  to " 

"  He  thought  it  was  the  wind,  as  he  did  before.  You  are  not  so 
stupid  as  I  thought." 

"  The  wolf  has  become  a  fox,  as  you  said  when  I  found  out  where 
the  bag,  the  money,  and  the  papers  were.  As  I  could  not  do  any 
more  for  the  present,  I  thought  it  best  to  come  to  you.  So  here 
I  am." 

"  Go  in  tho  loft  and  find  me  the  longest  ashen  pike." 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  And  the  red  woollen  blanket." 

"  Yes,  master." 

"  Be  gone." 

Goliath  mounted  the  ladder,  and  when  he  had  reached  midway 
stopped. 

"  Master,  mayn't  I  bring  down  a  bit  of  meat  for  La  Mort?  You'll 
<»ee  she'll  owe  me  a  spite ;  she'll  lay  it  all  to  me.  She  never  forgets, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity " 

"  The  pike  and  the  blanket! "  replied  the  prophet,  in  a  commanding 
tone. 

Whilst  Goliath  mutteringly  executed  his  behests,  Morok  gently 
opened  the  door  of  the  shed,  and,  looking  out  into  the  court-yard, 
again  listened. 

"  Here  are  the  pike  and  blanket,"  said  the  giant,  coming  down  the 
ladder  with  them.  "  What  am  I  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  Return  to  your  aperture,  get  up  again  to  the  window,  and  when 
the  old  man  rushes  hastily  out  of  the  chamber " 

"  Who  '11  make  him  rush  out  ?  " 

"  He  will  go  out.     The  how  is  no  affair  of  yours." 

"Well;  and  then?" 

"  You  told  me  the  lamp  was  near  the  window." 

"  Quite  near ;  and  the  table  close  to  the  bag." 

"  As  soon  as  the  old  man  leaves  the  room,  push  the  window,  knock 
over  the  lamp,  and  if  you  then  succeed  in  doing  quickly  and  cleverly 
what  remains  to  be  done — the  ten  florins  are  yours.  You  remember 
all  I  told  you ': " 

"  I  do,  I  do." 

"  The  girls  will  be  so  frightened  by  the  noise  and  the  darkness  that 
they  will  remain  dumb  with  fear." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  the  wolf  has  become  a  fox,  he  will  be  a 
serpent." 

"  This  is  not  all." 

"  What  more  ?  " 

"  The  roof  of  the  shed  is  not  high,  the  skylight  in  the  loft  is 
easily  reached,  the  night  is  dark,  and  so,  instead  of  returning  by  the 
door " 

"  I  am  to  get  in  by  the  skylight?  " 

"  And  without  a  sound." 

"  Like  a  real  serpent."     And  the  giant  left  the  stable. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  prophet,  after  a  silence  of  some  time  ;  "  my  means 
are  sure,  and  I  will  no  longer  hesitate.  Blind  and  obscure  tool ;  I 


64  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

know  not  the  motives  of  the  instructions  I  have  received ;  but  after 
the  orders  which  accompany  them,  and  the  position  in  which  he  is 
who  sends  them  to  me,  doubtless  some  most  important  interests  are 
involved.  Interests,"  he  continued,  after  another  pause,  "  which  affect 
all  that  is  greatest — most  exalted  in  the  world  ! ! !  But  how  can  these 
two  young  girls,  almost  beggars, — how  can  this  miserable  old  soldier 
represent  or  be  connected  with  such  interests?  No  matter,"  he  added 
with  humility,  "  I  am  the  arm  which  acts,  it  is  for  the  head  that  thinks 
and  orders  to  be  responsible  for  its  works." 

The  prophet  then  left  the  shed,  taking  in  his  hand  the  blanket, 
and  directed  his  steps  towards  Jovial's  little  stable.  The  shattered 
door  was  hardly  kept  closed  by  the  hasp. 

At  the  sight  of  a  stranger  Kill-joy  sprang  at  him,  but  his  teeth  only 
met  with  greaves  of  iron ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  dog's  bites,  the  prophet 
took  Jovial  by  his  halter,  and,  having  tied  his  head  up  in  the  blanket 
that  he  might  neither  see  nor  smell,  he  led  him  out  of  the  stable  and 
conducted  him  to  the  interior  of  his  menagerie,  the  door  of  which  he 
fastened. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  SURPRISE. 

HAVING  thus  completed  the  perusal  of  their  father's  journal,  the 
orphans  remained,  for  some  time,  mournfully  and  silently  contemplating 
the  precious  document,  the  leaves  of  which  were  already  discoloured 
and  soiled  by  age ;  while  Dagobert,  absorbed  in  fond  anticipation  of 
shortly  meeting  the  beloved  wife  and  son  from  whom  he  had  been  so 
long  separated,  sat  buried  in  many  a  fond  reverie  of  domestic  bliss. 

The  soldier  was  the  first  to  break  the  deep  silence  which  for  several 
minutes  prevailed  in  the  little  chamber;  taking  the  manuscript  from 
the  hands  of  Blanche,  and  carefully  folding  it,  lie  returned  it,  with 
all  the  reverence  due  to  so  sacred  a  relic,  to  the  pocket  from  which 
he  had  taken  it,  saying  to  the  sisters, — 

"  Take  heart,  my  children,  and  let  the  recollection  of  your  brave 
father  rouse  you  to  bear  your  present  trials  with  courage.  Remember 
you  are  the  daughters  of  a  brave  man,  and  must  not  disgrace  him  by 
cowardly  shrinking  from  what  is  before  you  ;  let  the  dear  hope  of 
shortly  embracing  him  drive  away  all  grief  and  sorrow  ;  and,  above  all, 
never  forget  the  name  of  that  worthy  friend  to  whom  you  will  owe  this 
happiness — for,  had  not  Djalma  saved  his  life,  you  would  indeed  be 
orphans." 

"  Fear  not,  Dagobert,"  answered  Rose,  "  we  can  never,  never, 
cease  to  think  of  that  revered  name,  while  >ve  are  spared  the  use  of 
our  memory." 

"  And  when  our  Gabriel,  our  guardian  angel,  again  visits  us,"  added 
Blanche,  "  we  will  pray  of  him  to  take  Djalma  also  under  his  charge." 

"  Good,  my  children, ! "  replied  Dagobert ;  "  I  am  quite  sure  that 
you  will  do  all  that  affection  and  duty  require.  But,  to  return  to  the 
traveller  who  so  unexpectedly  visited  your  mother  in  Siberia,  he  had 


THE  SURPRISE. 


65 


seen  your  father  a  month  after  the  facts  you  have  just  read  had  occurred, 
and  again  previously  to  the  general's  setting  out  to  open  a  fresh  cam- 
paign against  the  English ;  upon  the  latter  occasion  it  was  that  your 
father  confided  to  him  these  papers  and  medal.". 

"  But,  Dagobert,  can  you  tell  us  what  is  the  use  of  this  medal?" 
"  And  what  do  the  words  inscribed  on  it  mean  ?  "  pursued  Rose, 
drawing  it  from  her  bosom.* 

"  Why,  it  means  exactly  this — that  we  must  be,  without  fail,  in 
Paris,  No.  3  Rue  Saint  Francois,  on  the  13th  February,  1832." 
"  But  wherefore?" 

"  The  suddenness  of  the  attack  which  carried  off  your  dear  mother 
prevented  her  informing  me,  and  all  I  know  is,  that  this  medal  had 
been  handed  down  to  her  from  her  family,  in  whose  possession  it  had 
been  for  more  than  a  hundred  years." 

"  And  how  did  our  father  become  possessed  of  it  ?" 
"  Among  the  various  articles  hastily  put  into  the  carriage,  when 
he  was  so  forcibly  carried  from  Warsaw,  was  a  drossing-case  of  your 
mother's,  in  which  was  deposited  this  medal.  No  opportunity  was  ever 
afforded  the  general  of  returning  it ;  for,  had  there  been  any  means  of 
communicating  with  us,  he  was  entirely  ignorant  of  our  place  of 
exile." 

"  But  still  you  believe  this  medal  to  be  of  great  importance  to  us  ?" 
"  Doubtless  it  is !  and  never  had  I  seen  your  mother  so  joyful  for 
the  last  fifteen  years,  as  on  the  occasion  of  her  again  obtaining  pos- 
session of  it  through  the  stranger.  'Henceforward,'  exclaimed  she, 
'  the  fate  of  my  children  will  be  as  happy  and  prosperous  as  it  has 
hitherto  been  the  reverse ! '  and  turning  to  mo,  her  fine  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  joy,  and  her  whole  countenance  bright  with  the  glow  of 
happiness,  she  said,  in  the  presence  of  the  stranger,  '  I  shall  now  re- 
quest permission  of  the  governor  of  Siberia  to  visit  France  with  my 
daughters.  Surely  I  have  been  sufficiently  punished  by  fifteen  years' 
exile,  and  the  confiscation  of  all  my  property.  If  I  am  refused,  I 
must  perforce  remain ;  but,  at  least,  he  will  permit  me  to  send  my 
children  to  France  under  your  care,  my  faithful  Dagobert ;  and  you 
must,  in  that  case,  depart  quickly — for,  unhappily,  much  time  has 
already  been  lost ;  and  should  you  not  arrive  before  the.  13th  of  Feb- 
ruary, this  painful  separation  and  hazardous  journey  will  all  have 
been  in  vain.'" 


•      Victime 

de 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Priez  pour  moi. 

Paris, 
Le  13  F6vrier,  1682. 

Trantlated  thus. 

Victim 

of 

L.  C.  D.  J. 
Pray  for  me. 

Paris, 
February  13,  16Q2. 


A  Paris, 

Rue  Saint  Franfois,  No.  13, 
Dans  un  siecle  et  demi 

vous  serez. 
Le  13  F6vrier,  1832.' 

Priez  pour  moi. 
Translated  thus. 

Paris, 

13  St.  Francis  Street. 
In  a  century  and  a  half  you  will  be  there. 

Pray  for  me. 
February  13,  1832. 


66  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  What  if  even  a  single  day  after  the  date  ?" 
"  '  Should  you  even  be  delayed  an  hour  over  the  prescribed  time,' 
returned  your  mother,  '  it  will  be  destructive  to  the  good  I  expect 
from  the  undertaking  ;  the  1 3th  of  February  once  passed,  all  is  over.' 
She  at  the  same  moment  put  into  my  hands  a  thick  packet,  enjoining 
me  to  put  it  into  the  post-office  of  the  first  town  we  passed  through  ; 
and  this  I  have  done." 

"  And  do  you  calculate  upon  our  reaching  Paris  by  the  appointed 
time?" 

"  I  trust  so.  But,  if  you  think  you  are  strong  enough  to  bear  the 
fatigue,  I  should  like  to  double  some  of  our  marches  ;  for,  only  tra- 
velling as  we  now  do,  at  the  rate  of  five  leagues  a-day,  even  should  we 
rscape  all  accidental  delay,  it  will  be  impossible  for  us  to  arrive  at  our 
journey's  end  before  the  beginning  of  February,  and  it  would  be  very 
much  better  to  be  there  as  much  sooner  as  we  could  reach  Paris." 

"  But  since  our  dear  father  is  in  India,  and,  being  under  sentence 
of  death,  unable  to  return  to  France,  when  shall  we  see  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear  Dagobert,  do  tell  us  when  and  where  AVC  are  to  em- 
brace this  beloved  parent  ?  " 

"  My  poor  children  !  there  are  many  things  you  have  yet  to  learn. 
When  the  mysterious  stranger  last  saw  your  father,  he  could  not  have 
ventured  back  to  France.  But  circumstances  have  altered  since  then, 
and  he  may  now  do  so  with  perfect  safety." 

"  Tell  us  !  tell  us  how,  Dagobert  ?  "  asked  the  sisters,  eagerly. 

"  Because,  during  the  past  year,  the  Bourbons,  who  exiled  him, 
have,  in  their  turn,  been  driven  out  of  the  kingdom ;  the  news  will 
have  long  since  reached  India,  and  your  father's  first  impulse  would  be 
to  hasten  to  Paris,  in  the  fond  hope  and  expectation  of  finding  your 
mother  and  selves  assembled  upon  the  all-important  13th  of  February 
of  the  coming  year." 

"  Ah!"  said  Rose,  with  a  gentle  sigh,  "now  I  understand;  and 
we  may,  indeed,  hope  to  behold  him ! " 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  strange  traveller  you  have  been 
telling  us  of,  Dagobert?" 

"  No  !  my  children.  But  let  his  name  be  what  it  might,  he  was  a 
fine,  noble-hearted  man.  When  he  took  leave  of  your  mother,  she 
thanked  him,  with  many  tears,  for  his  kindness  to  us  all,  and  blessed 
him  for  his  generous  devotion  to  your  dear  father,  he  pressed  her 
hands  in  his  and  said,  in  a  sweet  and  gentle  voice,  which  moved  me 
in  spite  of  myself,  '  Why  thank  me  ?  has  He  not  said,  LOVE  YE  ONE 
ANOTHER?" 

"  Who  did  he  mean  by  HIM  ?  Yes,  whom  did  the  traveller  allude 
to  as  speaking  those  words  ?  " 

"  That  I  can't  tell  you ;  but  the  tone  and  manner  in  which  he 
uttered  the  expression  seemed  to  touch  my  very  heart,  and  those 
were  the  last  syllables  I  heard  him  speak." 

"  LOVE  YE  ONE  ANOTHER  I"  repeated  Rose,  pensively. 

"  What  beautiful  words  ! "  added  Blanche. 

"  And  where  was  the  traveller  going  ?     Did  he  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  far  off — far  distant  northwards,  I  heard  him  reply,  when 
your  mother  questioned  him  on  the  subject  of  his  farther  travelling  ; 
and  when,  after  his  departure,  your 'mother  was  speaking  to  me  of  him, 


THE  SURPRISE.  67 

she  said,  <  The  tender  yet  mournful  style  of  language'employed  by  the 
stranger,  who  has  just  gone,  has  affected  me  even  to  tears.  Yet, 
while  listening  to  him,  I  appeared  happier  in  mind,  and  stronger  in 
body,  than  I  have  done  for  years ;  my  heart  seemed  to  beat  with  in- 
creased love  for  my  husband  and  children,  and  yet  the  expression  of 
his  own  countenance  was  that  of  a  person  who  had  never  smiled  or 
wept  in  his  life.'  I  stood  by  your  mother  watching  his  departing 
steps,  and,  we  both  remarked,  with  slow,  calm,  yet  measured  steps, 
and  looking  downwards  with  a  dejected  and  melancholy  air — and, 
talking  of  his  steps,  I  observed " 

"  What  did  you  observe,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  You  remember  that  the  pathway  leading  to  the  house  was  always 
damp,  from  the  trickling  of  the  small  stream  which  flowed  near  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  I  we  remember  perfectly  ! " 

"  Well,  then,  I  noticed  that  the  impression  of  his  foot  remained  on 
the  soil,  and  that  the  nails  in  his  boot  were  arranged  in  the  form  of 
a  cross." 

"  A  cross  ?  " 

"  Like  this,"  said  Dagobert,  dotting  with  his  finger  the  seven 
marks  composing  the  cross,  on  the  coverlet  of  the  bed ;  "  there  they 
were  placed  after  this  fashion,  beneath  the  heel  of  his  boot,  — 


0       O 


There,  you  see,  that  forms  a  perfect  cross ! " 

"  What  could  that  possibly  signify  ?  " 

"  Any  thing — nothing.  Yet  it  must,  too,  have  had  some  meaning 
in  it ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  could  but  look  upon  it  as  a  bad  presage  for 
us,  for,  from  the  hour  of  his  quitting  us,  one  piece  of  ill-luck  fol- 
lowed another." 

"  Alas  !  the  death  of  my  mother  I " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  but,  previously  to  that,  a  severe  blow  overtook  us. 
You  had  not  returned  from  your  ramble,  and  your  mother  was  pre- 
paring her  petition  requesting  permission  either  to  conduct  you  to 
France  or  to  send  you  thither,  when  I  heard  the  quick  gallop  of  a 
horse  ;  it  was  a  courier  from  the  governor-general  of  Siberia,  bringing 
an  order  for  our  change  of  residence,  and  bidding  us  prepare,  in  three 
days'  time,  to  join  a  party  of  unfortunates  who  were  condemned  by  the 
state  to  banishment  in  one  of  the  most  inclement  parts  of  Asiatic  Tar- 
tary,  four  hundred  leagues  beyond  our  present  abode,  and  so  much 
farther  northwards.  Thus,  after  fifteen  years  of  exile,  your  poor 
mother  was  still  to  experience  an  increase  of  persecution  and  cruelty." 

"  But,  wherefore,  Dagobert,  was  she  thus  severely  treated  ?" 

'•  Itappeared  as  though  some  evil  genius  strove  against  her  happiness. 
Had  the  traveller  been  but  a  day  or  two  later,  he  would  not  have  found  us 
at  Milosk ;  and  if  he  had  subsequently  visited  us,  the  extreme  distance 
would  have  rendered  both  the  papers  and  medal  useless,  since,  had  we 


68  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

started  on  the  instant,  we  could  not  have  reached  Paris  by  the  given 
time." 

"  *  There  must  be  some  powerful  interest  concerned  in  keeping 
myself  and  children  from  Paris,  or  these  harsh  measures  would  never 
be  resorted  to,'  said  your  mother ;  '  for  thus  to  increase  the  distance 
of  our  place  of  banishment  upwards  of  four  hundred  leagues,  is  to 
place  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  our  being  in  Paris  by  the  appointed 
day.'  And  this  thought  rendered  her  almost  heart-broken." 

"  And,  perhaps,  was  the  cause  of  the  sudden  malady  which  carried 
her  off!" 

"  Alas  !  no,  my  child ;  the  accursed  cholera,  which,  like  the  simoom 
of  the  desert,  falls  on  all  with  deadly  power,  laid  her  low.  Like  the 
lightning  comes  this  scourge  of  human  life,  and,  like  the  thunderbolt, 
it  strikes  the  young,  the  fair,  the  innocent,  the  beloved,  the  good, 
equally  with  the  vile  and  wicked.  None  are  safe  from  its  dread 
poison,  and,  ere  evening  closed  on  our  village,  which,  when  the  morn- 
ning  dawned,  had  no  sickness  but  that  of  fond  hearts  pining  for  home 
and  dear-loved  friends,  five  of  our  small  population  had  fallen  victims 
to  its  rapid  and  fatal  progress ;  while  your  precious  mother,  stricken 
unto  death,  lay  in  her  last  agonies,  with  barely  sufficient  strength  re- 
maining to  hang  this  medal  round  your  neck,  my  poor  dear  Hose — to 
commend  you  both  to  my  most  careful  guidance  and  charge — to 
beseech  of  me  to  set  out  with  you  both  for  France  on  the  morrow — to 
clasp  her  feeble  arms  about  your  necks — and,  with  her  last  fond  kiss, 
to  give  up  her  latest  breath.  Your  mother  dead,  the  government  order  of 
removal  could  in  no  way  affect  you,  and,  accordingly,  the  permission  I 
requested  of  departing  instantly  with  you  was  unhesitatingly  granted. 
We,  therefore,  set  out  on  the  journey  deemed  so  important  by  your 

"  The  poor  soldier  could  not  proceed — sobs  choked  his  voice ; 

and,  throwing  himself  back  on  the  seat  he  occupied,  he  tightly  pressed 
his  hard,  horny  fingers  over  the  eyes  which  refused  to  contain  the 
large  drops  gathered  in  them,  while  the  sisters,  tenderly  embracing 
each  other,  mingled  their  sobs  and  tears. 

At  length  Dagobert  uncovered  his  sunburnt  face,  and  surveying 
the  weeping  girls  with  proud  exultation,  "  There ! "  said  he,  "  upon 
that  fearful  occasion  you,  children  as  you  were,  shewed  yourselves 
worthy  of  the  brave  father  from  whom  you  sprung.  Spite  of  all  re- 
monstrance as  to  the  danger  you  incurred,  it  was  found  impossible  to 
Avithdraw  you  from  the  bed  of  your  dying  mother — your  tender  hands 
closed  her  eyes.  When  all  forsook  her  corpse,  from  very  dread,  you 
boldly  looked  on  death  and  dared  contagion.  Your  young  eyes, 
dimmed  with  weeping  over  this  cruel  bereavement,  refused  to  close 
in  sleep,  and  resolutely  persisted  in  passing  the  night  by  the  cold 
remains  of  her  who  in  life  had  been  so  justly  dear.  Nor  did  you  once 
lose  sight  of  her  till  you  saw  me  lay  her  in  the  humble  grave  I  had 
dug — when,  weeping  bitterly,  you  watched  me  place  the  small  wooden 
cross  I  had  made  at  the  head  of  her  last  resting-place." 

Here  Dagobert  abruptly  ceased.  A  strange  and  wild  noise  was 
heard,  resembling  the  neighing  of  a  terrified  animal,  mingled  with  the 
most  savage  and  ferocious  roarings,  as  though  a  whole  menagerie  had 
broken  their  bounds.  The  horror-stricken  soldier  sprung  to  his  feet— 
his  time-worn  countenance  was  blanched,  with  fear— hastily  he  aiu- 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT.  69 

dilated,  "  Tis  the  cry  of  Jovial! — 'tis  my  old  horse!  What  can 
have  happened  to  him  ?  "  and,  hastily  quitting  the  chamber,  he  rushed 
impetuously  down  the  staircase. 

The  two  sisters,  relapsing  into  their  former  terror  at  the  abrupt 
departure  of  Dagobert,  and  tightly  folded  in  each  other's  arms,  saw 
not  an  enormous  hand  passed  through  the  broken  casement,  open  the. 
fastening  of  the  window,  push  the  two  sashes  violently  open,  and  knock 
over  the  lamp  placed  on  the  little  table,  on  which  the  old  soldier  had 
laid  his  wallet. 

The  orphans  were  now  left  in  impenetrable  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XL 

JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT. 

MOROK,  having  conducted  Jovial  into  the  middle  of  his  menagerie, 
took  off  the  covering  which  prevented  his  seeing  or  smelling. 

Scarcely  had  the  tiger,  lion,  and  panther,  perceived  him,  than  tl^e 
famished  creatures  rushed  precipitately  against  the  bars  of  their  cages. 

The  poor  horse,  seized  with  a  sudden  terror,  stood  with  extended 
neck  and  fixed  gaze,  trembling  in  every  limb,  and  as  though  glued  to 
the  ground,  while  a  stream  of  thick,  cold  sweat  ran  from  his  panting 
sides. 

The  lion  and  tiger,  uttering  fearful  roarings,  continued  to  pace 
violently  up  and  down  their  dens,  while  the  mute,  concentrated  fury 
of  the  panther  was  still  more  fearfully  expressed.  At  the  risk  of  dis- 
locating his  neck,  he,  with  one  tremendous  spring,  dashed  against  the 
bars  of  his  cage,  then  returning  slowly  and  stealthily,  though  with  in- 
creased ferocity,  he  again  crouched  down  at  the  opposite  extremity 
of  his  cage,  preparatory  to  a  fresh  essay  to  burst  the  bars  which  held 
him — an  effort  as  futile,  though  more  desperate,  than  the  preceding: 
thrice  had  he  taken  his  deadly  spring  in  fearful  silence,  when  the  horse, 
passing  from  the  first  stupor  of  fear  to  the  horrible  terror  of  certain 
danger,  neighed  loudly  and  rushed  with  wild  alarm  to  the  door  by 
which  he  had  entered,  but,  finding  it  closed,  his  head  drooped,  his 
limbs  bent,  while  he  sniffed  with  expanded  nostrils  the  trifling  aperture 
between  the  door  and  the  sill,  as  though  anxious  to  escape  the 
nauseous  atmosphere  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  and  to  breathe  again 
the  open  air  ;  then,  becoming  momentarily  more  aware  of  the  danger 
of  his  situation,  the  poor  brute  filled  the  place  with  his  loud  neighings, 
while  he  kicked  with  desperate  plunges  against  the  door. 

At  the  moment  when  La  Mort  was  preparing  another  death-dealing 
spring,  the  prophet  approached  his  cage,  and  with  his  spear  pushed 
back  the  heavy  bolt  which  secured  it.  As  the  last  portion  of  the  iron 
rolled  from  the  groove  in  which  it  was  held,  the  prophet  fled  rapidly 
towards  the  ladder,  and,  ere  a  second  had  elapsed,  had  well-nigh 
reached  his  loft. 

The  loud  roaring  of  the  lion  and  tiger,  mingled  with  the  cries  of 


70  THE  WANDBRIKG  JEW. 

Jovial,  were  no  longer  confined  to  the  menagerie,  but  now  resounded 
throughout  the  inn. 

Again  the  panther  essayed  a  fresh  bound,  and  this  time  with  so 
determined  a  force,  that,  as  the  door  flew  open,  he  sprung  into  the 
very  centre  of  the  building. 

The  light  of  the  lamp  left  by  Morok  shone  upon  the  sable  lustre 
of  the  creature's  coat,  displaying  the  variegated  spots  which  clothe  its 
surface.  For  a  few  seconds  the  beast  remained  on  the  ground  motion- 
less, its  short  legs  gathered  under  it,  and  its  head  stretched  out,  as 
though  calculating  the  force  of  the  spring  calculated  to  reach  the 
horse.  A  brief  instant,  and  La  Mort  darted  upon  the  unfortunate 
animal. 

Jovial,  on  perceiving  his  enemy  escape  from  his  den,  threw  himself, 
with  all  his  strength  and  power,  against  the  door,  which,  unhappily  for 
him,  opened  from  without.  In  his  struggles  to  escape,  the  horse 
plunged,  kicked,  beat  the  door  with  his  head,  and  strove  by  every  exer- 
tion to  force  a  passage  for  himself,  and,  at  the  moment  when  La  Mort 
sprung  on  him,  Mras  standing  almost  erect,  striking  against  the  door- 
posts with  his  fore-feet.  The  quick  and  deadly  foe  he  sought  to  fly 
from  seized  him  by  the  throat,  tearing  his  chest  with  the  sharp  talons 
of  his  fore-paws.  The  first  incision  of  the  panther's  terrific  teeth 
divided  the  jugular  vein,  from  which  spouted  forth  jets  of  crimson 
blood,  and  covering  the  mouth  and  breast  of  the  ravenous  beast  with 
its  ensanguined  stream  ;  but,  not  content  with  thus  dealing  poor  Jovial 
his  death-wound,  the  Java  panther,  raising  himself  on  his  hind-legs, 
forced  the  agonised  brute  against  the  door,  where  he  held  him,  while, 
with  his  sharp  claws,  he  tore  open  the  heaving  flanks  of  his  victim. 

The  shrieks  of  the  tortured  horse  were  now  fearful  to  hear,  and  as 
the  savage  panther  continued  to  mangle  his  quivering  flesh,  his  cries, 
groans,  and  half-smothered  attempts  to  neigh  for  his  master,  were  most 
horribly  distinct  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  All  at  once  a  voice  was 
heard,  exclaiming, — 

"  Jovial !  Jovial !  my  fine  fellow,  your  master  is  here !  Courage, 
my  old  boy,  his  master  will  save  him  ! " 

These  words  proceeded  from  Dagobert,  who  was  vainly  striving 
to  break  open  the  door  behind  which  this  sanguinary  conflict  was 
going  on. 

"Jovial!"  pursued  the  old  soldier,  "here  I  am.  Don't  mind 
them,  my  brave  fellow !  Here,  help  I  help  ! " 

At  the  well-known  and  friendly  sound  the  expiring  animal  endea- 
voured to  turn  his  head  towards  the  place  from  whence  his  master's 
voice  proceeded,  and  to  answer  him  with  a  faint  note  of  recognition  ; 
but,  sinking  under  the  devouring  ferocity  of  the  panther,  he  dropped, 
first  on  his  knees,  then  on  his  side,  so  as  to  completely  block  up  the 
.door,  and  effectually  preventing  any  one  opening  it  from  without. 

All  was  now  over. 

The  panther,  still  eagerly  pursuing  his  gluttonous  and  murderous 
repast,  now  bestrode  the  horse's  body,  and,  tightly  compressing  him 
with  his  fore  and  hind  paws,  spite  of  poor  Jovial's  dying  efforts  to 
dislodge  him,  continued  to  bury  his  blood-stained  muzzle  in  the  palpi- 
tating entrails  of  the  noble  steed. 

"  Help  !   help  I   help  I   for  heaven's  sake,  for  my  poor  horse  ! " 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT.  71 

exclaimed  Dagobert,  vainly  seeking  to  burst  the  lock  ;  then  crying 
with  impotent  fury,  "  And  I  have  no  weapon  !  — oh,  for  uiy  trusty 
weapons  I  My  arms  !  my  arms  ! " 

"  Take  care  I "  cried  the  conqueror  of  brutes,  appearing  at  the 
opening  which  looked  out  from  the  loft  on  to  the  court-yard ;  "  attempt 
not  to  enter,  or  you  will  endanger  your  life  I  My  panther  is  furious." 

"  But  my  horse !  my  horse ! "  reiterated  Dagobert,  in  a  tone  of 
beseeching  earnestness. 

"  Must  have  got  out  of  his  stable  in  the  night  and  entered  into  the 
building  here,  by  pushing  the  door  open.  No  doubt  the  sight  of  him 
made  the  panther  break  through  his  bars  and  get  out.  You  will  have 
to  answer  for  whatever  may  happen,"  added  the  tamer  of  beasts,  in  a 
threatening  voice ;  "  for  I  must  incur  the  most  fearful  risks  in  getting 
La  Mort  back  to  his  cage." 

"But  iny  horse!"  persisted  Dagobert.  "Save — oh,  save  my 
horse  ! " 

The  prophet  disappeared  from  the  opening. 

The  roaring  of  the  animals,  with  the  cries  of  Dagobert,  awoke  all 
the  inmates  of  the  White  Falcon  ;  in  all  directions  lights  streamed  from 
the  windows,  while  heads  were  hastily  thrust  out  to  inquire  the  cause 
of  all  this  unusual  disturbance.  Ere  long  the  servants  of  the  inn  had 
assembled,  lantern  in  hand,  and,  crowding  round  Dagobert,  were 
loudly  questioning  him  as  to  what  had  occurred. 

"  My  horse  is  in  there,  and  one  of  this  man's  animals  has  got 
loose ! "  cried  the  soldier,  still  frantically  striving  to  burst  the  door. 

At  these  words  the  poss6  of  half-dressed  domestics,  seized  with  a 
direful  panic,  still  further  augmented  by  the  tremendous  roaring  of  the 
beasts,  fled  in  wild  disorder  to  apprise  the  landlord  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. The  agony  of  the  old  soldier  while  awaiting  the  opening  of 
the  door  from  within  is  wholly  beyond  the  powers  of  language  to 
describe.  Pale,  trembling,  his  ear  tightly  pressed  against  the  keyhole, 
he  listened  in  silent  eagerness.  By  degrees  the  terrific  howling  of  the 
animals  ceased  ;  a  deep,  low  roar  was  occasionally  heard,  mingled  with 
the  harsh  voice  of  the  prophet,  endeavouring  to  restore  tranquillity 
among  the  furious  inhabitants  of  the  menagerie. 

"  La  Mort !  — here  !     La  Mort  I  —  I  command  !     So " 

The  night  was  profoundly  dark,  and  Dagobert,  absorbed  in  his 
intense  concern  for  the  horse's  safety,  neither  saw  nor  heard  Goliath 
clambering  over  the  tiled  roof,  so  as  to  eflect  an  entrance  by  the  garret- 
window  into  the  chamber  of  his  master. 

At  this  moment  the  yard-door  again  opened,  and  admitted  the  host  of 
the  White  Falcon  followed  by  a  number  of  men,  some  armed  with 
guns,  others  carrying  pitchforks,  sticks,  or  any  defensive  weapon  they 
could  hastily  collect — all,  however,  approached  with  considerable 
alarm  and  caution. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ?  "  inquired  the  host,  approaching  Dago- 
bert. "  Why  is  my  inn  to  be  upset  in  this  way,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  I  wish  all  wild-beast  showmen  were  at  the  devil,  in  company 
with  the  careless  fellows  who  know  not  how  to  tie  a  horse  up  securely, 
when  there  is  a  strong  halter  and  a  good  manger  to  fasten  it  to  !  It  is 
a  confounded  shame  to  be  dragged  out  of  one's  bed  in  this  unaccount- 
able manner  I  If  your  horse  is  injured,  it  serves  you  right — you 
ought  to  have  been  more  careful." 


72  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  poor  soldier  heeded  not  these  remarks ;  in  fact,  he  did  not 
.ip|M  ai  to  hear  them,  his  whole  soul  seemed  concentrated  in  listening 
to  the  sounds  proceeding  i'rom  the  menagerie,  while,  with  a  halt- 
impatient  gesture,  he  sought  to  obtain  the  silence  he  desired  to  ascer- 
tain what  was  doing  within  its  walls. 

Suddenly  a  fearfully  ferocious  roar  was  heard,  accompanied  by  a 
shriek  of  pain  from  the  prophet,  and  almost  instantly  the  panther 
uttered  a  frightful  yell. 

"  Your  negligence  has,  no  doubt,  caused  some  fatal  accident,"  said 
the  landlord  of  the  inn  to  Dagobcrt.  "  Did  you  hear  that  cry  ?  Morok 
is,  perhaps,  dangerously  wounded." 

Dagobcrt  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Goliath 
appeared  on  the  threshold,  saying, — 

"  You  can  come  in — there  is  no  danger  now." 

The  interior  of  the  menagerie  presented  a  most  horrible  spectacle. 

The  prophet,  pale  and  scarcely  able  to  conceal  his  extreme  agitation 
beneath  his  assumed  mask  of  calm  self-possession,  was  kneeling  near 
the  panther's  cage,  in  an  attitude  of  deep  prayer;  his  lips  only  moved, 
and  he  seemed  wrapped  in  a  devotional  reverie  that  rendered  him 
alike  unmindful  and  unconscious  of  what  was  passing  around  him. 
At  length,  compelled  by  the  thronging  crowd  to  rise  from  his  knees, 
Morok  cast  his  eyes  upwards,  and  uttered,  in  a  deep  solemn  voice, — 

"  Thanks,  thanks !  O  my  God !  for  having  yet  again  prevailed  by 
the  power  Thou  hast  given  to  mine  arm  !"  Then  crossing  his  arms  on 
his  breast,  with  imperious  look  and  haughty  brow,  he  seemed  triumph- 
ing in  his  late  victory  over  La  Mort,  who,  extended  at  the  bottom  of 
his  den,  still  howled  piteously. 

The  spectators  of  this  scene,  ignorant  that  the  robe  of  the  prophet 
concealed  the  suit  of  entire  armour  he  wore,  and  attributing  the  cries 
of  the  panther  to  the  supernatural  terror  he  experienced,  were  struck 
with  astonishment  and  admiration  at  the  marvellous  courage  and  in- 
trepidity of  a  single  man.  A  little  behind  Morok  stood  the  giant 
figure  of  Goliath,  leaning  on  an  ashen  sapling,  which  served  him  as  a 
lance  to  direct  the  movements  of  the  beasts.  And  at  no  great  distance 
from  the  panther's  cage  lay  the  remains  of  poor  Jovial,  surrounded  by 
a  sea  of  blood. 

At  the  sight  of  the  mangled  and  still  bleeding  corpse  of  his  dear 
and  ancient  comrade,  the  rough  countenance  of  the  old  soldier  assumed 
an  expression  of  the  most  touching  grief,  hopeless  as  it  was.  The 
poor  fellow,  kneeling  beside  his  horse,  raised  his  head,  as  though  still 
seeking  a  vestige  of  life ;  but  when  he  beheld  the  fixed  glassy  eye  but 
lately  so  bright  and  intelligent,  Dagobert  gently  laid  it  down,  and, 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  gave  way  to  the  most  bitter  lament- 
ations, forgetting,  in  his  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  so  valued  and  cherished 
a  friend,  all  considerations  save  his  bitter  regret  at  the  horrible  fate  of 
his  poor  old  charger — his  unflinching  companion  in  fatigue  or  battle, 
who,  like  himself,  bore  wounds  and  scars  to  commemorate  the  hard 
lights  they  had  mutually  shared  in,  and  who  for  nearly  twenty  years 
had  daily  fed  from  his  hand  and  joyfully  welcomed  his  approach.  En- 
grossed by  the  most  painful  reminiscences  of  all  Jovial  had  been, 
mingled  with  the  deepest  sorrow  of  his  having  met  with  so  unworthy 
an  end  to  all  his  services,  the  veteran  thought  not  once  of  the  severe 
interruption  this  accident  would  prove  to  the  important  journey  he 


• 


THE    MENAGERIE. 
P.  7*. 


iii.l  Hall.     .lii'iiui-y  I.   l«  I  ' 


JOVIAL  AND  LA  MORT.  73 

had  undertaken,  or  by  what  means  the  young  girls  he  was  conducting 
to  Paris  would  now  be  able  to  proceed.  The  intense  grief  of  the  old 
soldier  was  so  evident  in  the  agony  delineated  on  his  weather-beaten 
features,  that  even  the  host  of  the  Falcon,  with  his  group  of  followers, 
could  not  refuse  their  sympathy  and  pity  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man 
kneeling  in  such  bitter  sorrow  beside  his  dead  horse. 

But  when  pursuing  his  regrets  at  the  violent  end  his  favourite  had 
come  to,  he  remembered  that  Jovial  had  shared  his  exile,  and  had 
borne  the  mother  of  his  young  charges  through  a  long  and  fatiguing 
journey,  even  as  he  had  since  carried  the  children,  then  the  fatal  con- 
sequences of  being  at  this  critical  juncture  deprived  of  the  unfor- 
tunate animal,  flashed  on  his  mind  in  all  their  force.  Rage  succeeded 
to  grief,  and  as  the  soldier  awoke  from  his  laments  over  his  friend  to  a 
clear  sense  of  his  present  peril  and  destitution,  fury  flashed  from  his 
eyes,  and  springing  on  the  prophet,  whom  he  justly  considered  as  the 
cause  of  all  his  misfortunes,  he  seized  him  by  the  throat,  while  he 
struck  him  repeatedly  on  the  breast,  but  the  h'rm  coat  of  mail  worn 
beneath  the  soft  wrapping  robe  of  Morok,  prevented  this  effusion  of 
wrath  from  taking  the  slightest  effect. 

"  Wretch  !"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  still  continuing  his  blows ;  "  you 
shall  dearly  pay  for  all  this !" 

The  slight  frame  of  Morok  would  have  had  no  chance  against  an 
antagonist  of  Dagobert's  uncommon  size  and  strength,  and  it  required 
the  combined  power  of  Goliath  and  the  host  of  the  Falcon  to  rescue 
the  prophet  from  the  firm  grasp  of  the  soldier. 

When  at  length  the  combatants  were  separated,  Morok  was  white 
and  almost  convulsed  with  so  deadly  a  rage,  that  it  required  all  Goliath's 
enormous  strength  to  prevent  his  assailing  Dagobert  with  the  spear  of 
the  giant. 

"  Your  conduct  is  most  disgraceful,"  said  the  landlord,  addressing 
Dagobert,  who  was  standing  with  his  clenched  hand  tightly  compressed 
against  his  bald  forehead.  "  You  expose  this  worthy  man  to  the  risk 
of  being  devoured  by  his  own  beasts,  and  then  try  to  murder  him  I 
Is  that  the  way  for  an  old  soldier  like  you  to  behave  ?  You  shewed 
far  more  sense  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening." 

The  words  recalled  the  soldier  to  himself,  and  made  him  the  more 
regret  his  impetuosity,  as  he  knew  that,  being  a  stranger,  he  should  be 
sure  to  have  the  worst  chance  of  justice.  It  was,  besides,  absolutely 
necessary  that  he  should  be  indemnified  for  the  loss  of  poor  Jovial, 
because  the  delay  of  a  single  day  might  peril  every  thing  he  had  at 
heart  to  achieve.  Making  a  violent  effort,  therefore,  to  restrain  him- 
self, he  replied  in  an  agitated  voice  he  strove  to  render  calm, — 

"  You  are  right.  I  was  too  hasty  !  True,  I  forgot  the  patience  I 
exercised  before.  But  surely  this  man  ought  to  replace  my  horse.  I 
ask  you  to  judge  fairly  between  us." 

"  Well,  then,"  answered  the  other,  "  if  you  leave  it  to  my  decision, 
I  shall  give  it  against  you.  You  are  alone  to  blame  for  all  the  mischief 
that  has  ensued.  You  must  have  tied  your  horse  up  very  carelessly, 
and,  in  consequence,  he  has  strayed  from  his  stable  and  entered  this 
barn,  the  door  of  which  was  probably  left  half-open,"  added  the  host 
of  the  White  Falcon,  evidently  siding  with  the  tamer  of  beasts. 

"  You  are  right,  master,"  chimed  in  Goliath ;  "  I  recollect  purposely 


74  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

leaving  the  door  ajar  to  give  the  animals  air.  I  knew  the  cages  were 
well  secured,  and  (hat  there  was  not  the  slightest  danger." 

"  Of  course  not,  if  all  was  well  looked  to  and  fast,"  responded 
the  crowd. 

"  And  no  doubt  it  was  the  sight  of  the  horse  rendered  the  panther 
furious,  and  made  him  break  out,"  added  another. 

"  I  think  the  prophet  has  the  greatest  cause  for  complaint,"  said  a 
third. 

"  It  is  very  immaterial  to  me  what  any  of  you  think  or  say,"  said 
Dagobert,  whose  patience  was  beginning  to  leave  him.  "  What  /  say 
and  what  /  insist  upon  is,  that  he  either  gives  me  as  good  a  horse  as 
that  his  beast  has  killed,  or  the  price  of  one,  and  that,  too,  without 
delay,  that  I  may  instantly  quit  this  unlucky  spot." 

"  You  will  find,"  said  Morok,  "  that  it  is  I  who  require  recom- 
pensing for  the  mischief  done,"  and  having  purposely  reserved  this 
coup  de  theatre  as  a  finale,  he  exhibited  his  left  hand  which  lie  had 
hitherto  kept  concealed  in  the  bosom  of  his  furred  robe,  and  displayed 
it  wounded  and  bleeding.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  behold  the  effects  of 
your  inexcusable  negligence  in  not  taking  more  care  of  your  horse, — 
this  wound,  received  while  forcing  the  infuriated  panther  back  to  his 
cage,  has  probably  lamed  me  for  life." 

Without  being  of  the  dangerous  description  stated  by  the  prophet, 
the  wound  was  sufficiently  frightful  to  attract  universal  sympathy  and 
pity.  Reckoning,  no  doubt,  upon  this  incident  as  certain  to  obtain  a 
favourable  decision  for  a  cause  he  looked  upon  as  his  own  affair,  the 
landlord  of  the  Falcon  said,  turning  to  a  stable  lad,  who  stood  near 
him, — 

"  There  is  but  one  means  of  settling  this  dispute.  Go  and  call  up 
the  burgomaster,  and  beg  of  him  to  come  hither  with  all  speed ;  he 
will  decide  who  is  right  and  who  is  wrong." 

"  The  very  thing  I  was  going  to  propose,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  for, 
talk  as  I  may,  I  cannot  obtain  justice  unaided." 

"  Fritz ! "  said  the  host,  "  run  to  the  burgomaster." 

The  lad  went  instantly,  and  his  master  fearing  to  be  involved  in  the 
inquiry  which  would  take  place,  and  probably  punished  for  having  on  the 
previous  evening  omitted  to  ask  the  soldier  for  his  passport,  &c.,  said, — 

"  The  burgomaster  will  be  preciously  cross  at  being  disturbed  at 
such  an  unreasonable  hour :  I  have  no  taste  for  coming  in  for  a  share 
of  it,  therefore,  I  will  thank  you  to  go  and  fetch  your  passport  and 
requisite  papers,  if  you  are  duly  provided  with  them,  for  I  did  very 
wrong  in  not  demanding  them  upon  your  arrival  last  evening." 

"  They  are  in  my  travelling  bag,  up  stairs  in  the  bedroom,"  an- 
swered the  soldier ;  "you  shall  have  them  instantly  !"  Then  averting 
his  head,  and  putting  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  as  he  passed  the  body 
of  Jovial,  he  quitted  the  place  to  return  to  the  sisters. 

The  eye  of  the  prophet  followed  him  with  a  triumphant  glare,  say- 
ing, mentally, — 

"  He  has  now  neither  horse,  money,  nor  papers — more  I  am  for- 
bidden to  do  ;  and  I  must  likewise  proceed  with  cautious  steps  that  no 
suspicions  may  fall  upon  me.  I  have  so  far  managed  cleverly,  that  all 
blame  must  rest  on  the  soldier  for  what  has  happened  ;  and  one  thing 
i»  very  certain,  that  several  days  must  elapse  ere  he  can  continue  his 


THE  BURGOMASTER.  75 

route,  which  is  the  great  point  aimed  at  in  all  I  have  done,  though 
still  I  work  blindly,  and  wholly  unable  to  comprehend  the  deep  im- 
portance attached  to  delaying  the  progress  of  an  old  man  and  two 
young  girls.  Well,  well,  I  am  but  an  agent." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  these  reflections  had  crossed  the  mind 
of  the  brute-conqueror,  Karl,  Goliath's  comrade,  quitted  the  conceal- 
ment he  had  observed  by  his  master's  commands,  and  departed  for 
Leipsic,  bearing  a  letter  hastily  penned  by  Morok,  and  which  Karl 
was  instructed  to  put  in  the  post  immediately  on  his  arrival  in  that 
city.  The  letter  was  addressed, 

"  A  Monsieur 
"  Monsieur  Rodin, 

Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ureins,  No.  11, 

A  Paris, 
France." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE     BURGOMASTER. 

THE  disquiet  of  Dagobert  was  increased  by  his  entire  conviction  that 
the  death  of  poor  Jovial  had  not  been  accidental,  and  that  nothing 
was  more  improbable  than  that  an  animal  of  his  steady  and  well-dis- 
ciplined habits  should  have  broken  from  his  own  stable  to  wander  into 
a  den  of  beasts.  This  deplorable  accident,  therefore,  he  ascribed  to 
the  wickedness  and  malice  of  the  master  of  the  menagerie,  though  in 
vain  did  he  try  to  find  a  cause  for  such  determined  persecution ;  and 
he  reflected  with  alarm  that  the  decision  of  his  just  cause  was  at  the 
sole  mercy  of  a  man  whose  displeasure  at  being  thus  roused  from  his 
slumbers  might  possibly  fall  upon  him,  and  induce  the  irritated  and 
weary  burgomaster  to  condemn  him  upon  false  appearances. 

Firmly  resolved  to  conceal  from  the  orphans  as  long  as  he  possibly 
could  the  new  misfortune  which  had  overtaken  him,  he  proceeded  to 
their  chamber,  when,  at  the  door,  he  stumbled  over  Kill-joy  ;  for,  after 
having  failed  in  his  attempts  to  prevent  the  prophet  from  leading 
Jovial  away,  the  faithful  dog  had  returned  to  his  post. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that,"  murmured  poor  Dagobert ;  "  the  dog, 
at  least,  has  kept  watch  over  the  poor  children,"  added  the  old  man, 
gently  opening  the  door :  to  his  great  surprise  the  chamber  was  in 
utter  darkness. 

"How  comes  it,  my  children,"  exclaimed  he,  "that  I  find  you  thus 
without  light?" 

No  answer  was  returned. 

Terrified,  he  hastily  groped  his  way  to  the  bed,  and  took  the  hand 
that  lay  nearest  to  him — alas!  it  was  icy  cold.  "Rose I  my  child- 
ren I "  screamed  the  old  man,  in  an  agony  of  fear  — "  Blanche  !  oh, 
speak  to  me — you  alarm  me  excessively  I " 

Still  no  reply  ;  and  the  rigid  fingers  fell  heavy  and  helplessly  again 
on  the  coverlet. 

The  moou,  breaking  through  the  mass  of  dark  cloud*  which  had 


76  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

hitherto  obscured  her  beams,  shone  brightly  through  the  window- 
panes  on  to  the  little  bod  placed  immediately  opposite,  and  revealed  to 
him  the  sisters  fainting  in  each  other's  arms,  their  pale  countenances 
assuming  a  still  more  corpse-like  hue  from  the  reflection  of  the  moon- 
light. 

"  Poor  dear  children  !  they  have  been  reduced  to  this  state  by 
fear,"  cried  Dagobert,  feeling  in  his  pocket  for  the  small  flask  he 
usually  carried  with  him ;  "  but  who  can  wonder  at  it  after  such  a 
trying  day  as  they  have  passed  through  ?  " 

So  saying,  the  soldier  moistened  the  corner  of  one  of  their  hand- 
kerchiefs with  a  few  drops  of  brandy  ;  and,  kneeling  down  beside  the 
bed,  lightly  passed  it  over  the  temples  of  the  sisters,  and  again  apply- 
ing the  saturated  linen  to  the  nostrils  of  each.  JStill  kneeling  by  their 
side,  and  bending  his  dark  swarthy  countenance,  expressive  of  the 
most  anxious  solicitude,  over  the  young  orphans,  Dagobert  waited, 
with  intense  interest,  the  effect  of  the  only  restorative  he  had  it  in  his 
power  to  administer. 

At  length  a  convulsive  tremor,  passing  over  the  frame  of  Rose,  in- 
spired the  old  man  with  fresh  hopes.  She  soon  turned  upon  her  pil- 
low sighing  deeply ;  then,  starting  up,  perceived  Dagobert,  whom  she 
did  not  recognise,  through  the  imperfect  light  of  the  moon,  and  at 
once  frightened  and  surprised  she  clung  to  Blanche,  loudly  calling 
upon  her  for  help. 

Happily  the  rough  but  well-meant  cares  of  the  soldier  began  to 
take  effect  on  the  tender  frame  of  Blanche,  and  the  cries  of  her  sister 
completely  roused  her  from  her  unconscious  state ;  sharing  her  terrors 
without  being  aware  of  the  cause  of  them,  she  tightly  enfolded  her 
sister  in  her  arms. 

"  Heaven  be  praised ! "  said  Dagobert,  "  the  colour  is  returning 
to  their  cheeks,  they  will  soon  be  quite  restored  I  That  is  all  right;  and 
these  attacks  are  merely  the  effects  of  a  weak  nature,  and  soon  pass 
away;"  then  speaking  in  a  more  soothing  tone,  he  added,  "There! 
now  you  are  better !  are  you  not  ?  Come,  my  children,  courage, 
eourage,  see,  it  is  Dagobert — only  Dagobert !  just  tell  me  you  are 
well,  and  pleased  I  have  come  back  to  you." 

Both  sisters  sprung  towards  their  tender  nurse,  and,  looking  at  him 
with  countenances  still  agitated  and  uneasy,  smiled  gratefully,  and  by 
one  simultaneous  movement  held  out  their  arms  to  him,  crying,  in  glad 
tones, — 

"  Oh,  Dagobert !  how  glad  we  are  to  see  you  !   Now  we  are  safe  !" 

"  Yes,  dear  children  ! "  returned  the  veteran,  taking  their  hands, 

and  pressing  them  with  the  tenderness  of  a  fond  father,  "  I  will  see 

that  no  further  harm  shall  befall  you.     But  what  terrified  you  so 

much  while  I  was  absent?" 

"  Oh,  Dagobert,  do  not  ask  us  to  tell  you — We  were  almost  dead 
with  fright." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  if  you  only  knew ! " 
"  But  how  came  the  lamp  extinguished  ?  " 
"  We  did  not  do  it." 

"  Come,  dear  children,  collect  your  courage,  and  tell  me  every 
thing  that  took  place  after  I  quitted  the  room ;  this  inn  does  not  seem 
to  me  very  secure,  fortunately  we  shall  soon  quit  it — it  was  a  bad  job  for 
us  ever  to  have  entered  it ;  but,  then,  what  could  we  do  ?  there  was  no 


THE  BURGOMASTER.  77 

other  place  for  us  to  halt  at  for  the  night;  but  tell  me  what  happened 
to  alarm  you  so  very  much  ?  " 

"  Scarcely  had  you  left  us  than  the  window  came  open  with  a  vio- 
lent noise,  and  the  lamp  fell  off  the  table  with  a  frightful  crash  ;  and 
we  were  so  alarmed  that  we  threw  ourselves  into  each  other's  arms, 
screaming  for  help,  and  we  fancied  some  person  was  walking  about 
the  chamber.  And  all  that  terror  made  us  as  ill  as  you  found  us, 
good,  kind  Dagobert ;  we  felt  as  if  we  should  die  ;  and  so  we  thought 
of  our  dear  mother,  who  promised  we  should  go  to  her  then." 

Unfortunately  adhering  to  his  original  belief,  that  the  violence  of 
the  wind  had  broken  the  glass  of  the  window  and  forced  it  open, 
Dagobert  still  blamed  himself  for  imperfectly  fastening  the  casement. 
Setting  down  this  second  alarm  of  the  sisters  to  the  same  cause  as  the 
preceding  one,  and  even  judging  that  their  extreme  terror  had  exag- 
gerated the  circumstances  they  related, 

"  That  is  all  over  now,  and  done  with,"  replied  he,  "  so  calm  your- 
selves, and  think  no  more  about  it !" 

"  But  what  made  you  quit  us  so  hastily,  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  Yes !  now,  I  recollect — don't  you,  sister  ?  We  heard  a  great 
noise  down  stairs,  and  then  Dagobert  rushed  out,  exclaiming,  '  My 
horse  !  what  can  they  be  doing  to  my  horse  ? '  It  was  Jovial  neigh- 
ing very  loudly,  was  it  not  ?  what  was  the  matter  with  him? " 

These  questions  recalled  to  the  mind  of  the  soldier  the  many 
griefs  and  difficulties  by  which  he  was  now  surrounded ;  he  feared  to 
reply  lest  he  should  betray  the  fearful  predicament  in  which  they 
were  placed,  he  therefore  answered,  with  an  air  of  assumed  indiffer- 
ence,— 

"  Yes,  it  was  Jovial  neighing,  but  that  was  all ;  but  we  must  have 
a  light.  Do  you  remember  where  I  put  my  fire-box  last  night  ?  Why, 
I  am  growing  old  and  stupid,  and  forget  every  thing.  Here  it  is, 
all  the  while  in  my  pocket :  fortunately  we  have  a  candle — so  I  will 
just  light  it,  and  then  look  in  my  wallet  for  some  papers  I  require." 

As  Dagobert  completed  his  operation  of  procuring  a  light  and 
alluraing  the  candle,  he  perceived  that  the  sisters'  account  of  their 
recent  fright  had  not  been  overcolourcd,  for  the  casement  was  half- 
open,  the  table  and  lamp  knocked  over,  and  on  the  ground  beside 
him  lay  his  haversack.  The  veteran  closed  and  fastened  the  window, 
replaced  the  table-lamp  and  bag,  then,  taking  the  latter  in  his  hands, 
he  carefully  unclasped  it,  in  order  to  take  out  the  pocket-book,  which, 
as  well  as  his  cross  and  purse,  were  deposited  in  a  species  of  false 
pocket,  constructed  between  the  outer  case  of  leather  and  the  lining ; 
and  so  carefully  were  the  different  straps  and  fastenings  re-adjusted, 
that  a  more  suspicious  mind  than  Dagobcrt's  would  never  have  sup- 
posed its  contents  had  been  subjected  to  any  scrutiny  but  his  own. 

The  soldier  thrust  his  hand  into  the  accustomed  aperture  in  search 
of  his  papers.  The  pocket  was  entirely  empty.  Thunderstruck  at 
this  additional  outrage,  Dagobert  started  with  amazed  looks;  again 
the  blood  forsook  his  timeworn  countenance,  and,  in  accents  of  deep 
distress,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Gone !     That  too !" 

"  Dagobert  I"  said  Blanche,  "  what  can  be  the  matter  ?" 

fie,  answered  not« 


78  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

For  some  minutes  he  continued  vacantly  gazing  around  him,  one 
hand  grasping  the  table  near  which  he  stood  as  though  to  prevent 
himself  from  falling,  the  other  mechanically  pressing  the  sides  of  the 
pocket  where  he  had  left  his  lost  treasures.  Then,  as  though  inspired 
by  a  sudden  hope  (for  so  cruel  a  reality  seemed  more  than  it  was 
possible  to  believe),  he  eagerly  emptied  the  contents  of  the  wallet  on 
the  table.  They  consisted  merely  of  some  trifling  articles  of  half- 
worn-out  clothing,  and  his  old  uniform  of  the  Imperial  Dragoon- 
guards,  in  his  eyes  an  inestimable  relic;  but  in  vain  did  Dagobert 
unfold  and  shake  out  each  article,  no  trace  either  of  his  purse  or  the 
pocket-book  (containing  his  cross  and  the  letters  of  General  Simon) 
could  be  found.  And  then,  with  that  almost  childish  tenacity  of 
purpose  which  frequently  attends  a  hopeless  search,  the  soldier  took 
the  haversack  by  the  two  corners,  and  shook  it  with  desperate  energy ; 
alas !  equally  without  finding  that  which  he  sought.  The  orphans, 
unable  to  comprehend  either  the  silence  or  conduct  of  Dagobert, 
whose  back  was  towards  them,  looked  at  each  other  in  great  un- 
easiness. At  length  Blanche  ventured  to  say,  in  a  timid  voice, — 

'«  What  ails  you,  Dagobert  ?  You  do  not  speak  to  us  ?  And  what 
are  you  looking  for  in  your  bag  ?" 

Still  deaf  to  every  inquiry,  the  soldier  commenced  a  strict  search 
through  all  his  pockets,  turning  them  completely  out,  but  still  in  vain  ; 
and  this  great  calamity  was,  perhaps,  the  first  thing  in  his  life  that  had 
ever  rendered  him  unmindful  of  the  words  of  his  children,  as  he  loved 
to  style  the  orphans.  Tears  suffused  the  eyes  of  the  sisters  at  this 
continued  silence  on  the  part  of  their  old  friend ;  and  now  believing 
that  Dagobert  was  displeased  with  them,  they  durst  not  address  him 
further. 

"  No — no — no ! — it  cannot  be ! — I  will  not  believe  it  I  No,  no!  " 
uttered  the  veteran.  "  I  cannot !  I  dare  not  think  them  really  gone — " 
repeated  he,  pressing  one  hand  on  his  forehead,  and  seeking  to  recall 
to  his  memory  some  probable  place  where  he  might  have  deposited 
objects  so  precious. 

A  sudden  ray  of  hope  darted  across  his  mind,  and,  quick  as  light- 
ning, he  placed  on  a  chair  the  small  valise  belonging  to  the  orphans. 
It  contained  merely  a  few  changes  of  linen,  two  black  dresses,  and  a 
small  white  box,  in  which  were  enclosed  a  silk  handkerchief  that  had 
been  their  mother's,  two  locks  of  her  hair,  and  a  black  riband  she 
generally  wore  round  her  neck.  The  little  she  possessed  had  been 
seized  by  the  Russian  government  when  her  estates  were  confiscated. 
Dagobert  turned  each  article  over  and  over,  searched  even  the  very 
corners  of  the  valise,  but,  alas  !  he  found  not  what  he  sought. 

And  now,  completely  bewildered  and  exhausted,  the  unhappy  man 
felt  his  strength  both  of  body  and  mind  desert  him ;  he,  so  unmindful 
of  fatigue,  so  energetic,  so  bold,  now  felt  a  conscious  weakness  steal- 
ing over  him,  his  knees  tottered  under  him,  a  cold  sweat  bedewed  his 
face,  and  he  clung  to  the  chair  on  which  he  had  rested  the  valise  to 
keep  himself  from  falling. 

It  is  commonly  asserted  a  drowning  man  will  catch  at  a  straw,  it  is 
so  with  persons  who,  however  desperate  their  circumstances,  refuse  to 
surrender  themselves  to  despair.  Dagobert,  clinging  to  any  suggestion, 
however  fallacious,  absurd,  or  improbable,  turned  round  abruptly  to 


THE    LOSS   DISCOVERED. 
P.  78. 


I. UIlll":: 


THE  BURGOMASTER.  79 

the  orphans  and  said,  without  recollecting  his   altered  voice  and 
looks, 

"  Tell  me,  quickly !  did  I  not  give  them  to  you  to  keep  for  me  ? 
Speak,  speak  I  put  me  out  of  suspense." 

Instead  of  replying  to  him,  Rose  and  Blanche,  terrified  at  the 
paleness  of  his  countenance  and  wildness  of  his  looks,  uttered  a  cry  of 
fear  and  distress. 

"  Dear,  dear  Dagobert,"  murmured  Rose,  softly,  "  what  can  be  the 
matter  with  you  ?" 

"  Have  you  got  them,  or  have  you  not  ?"  exclaimed  the  wretched 
man,  whose  brain  was  quite  unsettled  by  the  severity  of  the  shock  he 
had  sustained ;  and,  contrary  to  his  usual  habit,  vociferating  his  demand 
in  a  voice  of  thunder.  "  If  you  have  not,  I  will  seize  the  first  knife  I 
can  find  and  bury  it  in  my  wretched  heart !" 

••  Good,  kind  Dagobert !  pray  forgive  us  if  we  have  offended 
you  !" 

"  You  love  us  too  well  to  see  us  grieve  ;  so  pray  tell  us  what  has 
thus  changed  you,  Dagobert." 

And  thus  uniting  their  tearful  petitions,  the  orphans  extended  their 
hands  in  earnest  supplication  towards  the  soldier. 

For  a  time  the  veteran,  as  though  unconscious  that  they  spoke, 
continued  to  gaze  with  a  wild,  vacant,  haggard  look;  but  as  the  con- 
fusion of  his  brain  subsided  and  reason  resumed  her  power,  he  became 
clearly  and  fully  aware  of  all  the  miseries  which  would  result  from  this 
last  climax  of  evil,  and  the  fearful  consequences  that  would  follow  their 
utter  privation  of  means  to  reach  Paris :  the  rude  soldier  felt  in  that 
dread  hour  the  need  of  some  superior  aid  to  any  earth  could  afford, 
and  falling  on  his  knees  beside  the  orphans,  and  clasping  his  hard, 
sunburnt  hands,  he  rested  his  aching  forehead  upon  them  and  wept 
bitterly.  Yes,  the  iron-framed  soldier  sobbed  like  an  infant  while  he 
uttered  in  broken  accents, — 

"Pardon,  pardon!  alas!  I  know  not — Oh,  miserable  man!  oh, 
misfortune  too  great  to  bear !  Pardon  !  oh,  pardon  !" 

At  this  burst  of  grief,  the  cause  of  which  they  could  not  compre- 
hend, but  which,  coming  from  one  whose  usual  firmness  and  resolu- 
tion were  so  completely  opposed  to  any  outward  display  of  distress,  the 
sisters  fondly  threw  their  arms  around  his  grey  head  as  it  rested  on 
the  covering  of  their  bed,  and  weeping  bitterly,  exclaimed,  "  Look  up, 
dear  Dagobert !  look  at  your  poor  children  !  Tell  them  what  makes 
you  so  very  unhappy,  and  say  they  have  not  done  any  thing  to  cause 
your  grief." 

Advancing  steps  were  now  heard  on  the  staircase.  At  the  same 
time  Kill-joy,  who  still  kept  watch  outside  the  door,  barked  furi- 
ously. The  nearer  the  sounds  approached  the  more  violent  became 
the  growling  of  the  dog,  who  was  evidently  proceeding  to  more 
hostile  measures,  for  the  voice  of  the  innkeeper  was  heard  exclaiming, 
in  an  angry  tone, — 

"  Halloa  !  there !  you  !  Speak  to  your  dog,  will  you  ?  Call  him, 
I  say  !  The  burgomaster  is  coming  up  stairs." 

"  Dagobert  I"  cried  Rose,  "  do  you  hear  what  they  say?  The 
burgomaster  is  coming ! " 

"  Hark  1"  said  Blanche,  "persons  are  coming  towards  this  room." 


80  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  name  of  the  burgomaster  recalled  Dagobert  completely  to  him- 
self, and  presented  before  his  mental  vision  the  entire  tableau  of  his 
terrible  situation.  His  horse  was  dead ;  he  had  neither  money  nor 
passport,  and  a  single  day's  delay  would  ruin  the  future  prospects  of 
the  two  poor  girls  committed  to  his  charge  with  dying  earnestness, 
and  render  the  fatigues  and  perils  they  had  already  undergone  of  no 
avail.  Men  of  Dagobert's  firm,  daring  nature  will  frequently  survey 
a  positive  and  declared  danger  with  greater  equanimity  than  they  can 
endure  the  agonising  suspense  of  evils  whose  termination  is  all  uncer- 
tain, and  dependent  on  petty  causes,  over  which  they  have  no  control. 

But  the  plain  good  sense  of  the  veteran,  sharpened  by  his  devoted 
attachment  to  his  orphan  charges,  quickly  pointed  out  to  him  that  his 
only  hope  was  in  the  justice  of  the  burgomaster's  decision,  and  that 
his  every  effort  must  be  directed  to  interest  that  functionary  in  his 
cause.  Thus  resolved,  he  rose  from  his  knees,  wiped  the  tears  from 
his  eyes  on  the  corner  of  the  bed-clothes  he  had  convulsively  grasped 
in  his  hand,  and  standing  calmly  and  erect  before  the  sisters,  said, — 

"  Fear  nothing,  my  dear  children !  it  must  be  the  friend  I  trusted 
would  arrive  to  serve  us  ! " 

"  Are  you  going  to  call  your  dog  away  ? "  vociferated  the  inn- 
keeper, still  prevented  from  advancing  beyond  the  stairs  by  the  deter- 
mined vigilance  of  Kill-joy,  who  resolutely  forbade  all  further  approach 
up  the  passage.  "  Is  the  beast  mad  ?  Why  don't  you  tie  him  up  ? 
You  have  caused  mischief  enough  in  the  place,  I  think.  I  tell  you 
that  the  burgomaster  having  heard  the  prophet's  account  of  the  dis- 
turbance, now  wishes  to  learn  what  you  have  got  to  say  for  yourself." 

Poor  Dagobert,  feeling  that  an  eventful  moment  had  arrived,  upon 
the  result  of  which  the  future  fate  of  the  sisters  depended,  and  desirous 
of  appearing  to  all  possible  advantage  in  the  eyes  of  the  important 
personage  he  was  about  to  be  placed  before,  began  to  improve  his  per- 
sonal appearance  by  passing  his  fingers  through  his  grey  locks, 
smoothing  his  moustache,  adjusting  the  buckle  of  his  military  coat, 
and  polishing  up  his  gold-striped  sleeves.  Yet  the  heart  of  the  brave 
fellow  beat  with  a  terror  it  had  never  felt  when  facing  death  in  all  its 
most  frightful  forms,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  lock  of  the  door,  and 
turning  to  the  orphans,  who,  perplexed  and  affrighted  at  so  many 
strange  events,  looked  after  him  with  earnest  and  beseeching  gaze, 
said,  encouragingly, 

"  Remain  quite  still  and  quiet  in  your  bed,  my  dear  children,  and 
if  it  be  necessary  that  any  one  should  visit  our  room,  the  burgomaster 
alone  shall  enter." 

Then,  advancing  to  the  staircase,  the  soldier  exclaimed, — 

"  Down,  Kill-joy !  down !  " 

The  animal  obeyed  with  the  most  evident  reluctance,  and  it  was 
not  until  his  master  had  been  twice  compelled  to  interpose  his  autho- 
rity that  he  seemed  disposed  to  relinquish  his  hostile  intentions  towards 
the  innkeeper,  who,  holding  his  cap  in  one  hand  and  a  lantern  in  the 
other,  respectfully  preceded  the  burgomaster,  whose  magisterial  figure 
was  concealed  by  the  shadow  of  the  staircase. 

At  some  distance  behind  the  judge  might  be  indistinctly  seen,  by 
the  dull  glimmering  of  a  second  lantern,  a  group  of  curious  spectators, 
consisting  of  the  servants  and  helpers  belonging  to  the  inn. 


THE  INVESTIGATION.  81 

Dagobert  having  shut  Kill-joy  up  in  the  chamber  of  the  orphans, 
and  carefully  closed  the  door,  advanced  a  few  steps  on  the  landing- 
place,  which  was  large  enough  to  contain  several  persons,  and  in  one 
corner  of  which  was  a  wooden  bench  with  a  back  to  it. 

The  burgomaster,  who  had  just  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs  as 
Dagobert  closed  and  fastened  the  door,  seemed  much  astonished  at  a 
proceeding  which  seemed  like  interdicting  his  right  of  entrance. 

"  Wherefore  do  you  close  that  door  ? "  inquired  he,  in  an  abrupt 
tone. 

"  In  the  first  place,  because  two  young  girls,  who  are  under  my 
care,  are  sleeping  there  ;  and  secondly,  because,  should  they  overhear 
your  interrogatories,  it  would  alarm  them  very  much,"  answered  Da- 
gobert. "  Sit  down  here,  M.  le  Bourguiestre,  and  put  what  questions 
you  please  to  me ;  it  is  the  same  thing  to  you,  I  suppose,  where  the 
examination  takes  place?" 

"  And  by  what  right  do  you  presume  to  dictate  to  me  the  place 
where  you  shall  be  examined?"  inquired  the  functionary,  with  an 
appearance  of  displeasure. 

"  Nay,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,"  returned  Dagobert,  dreading,  above 
all  things,  to  prejudice  his  visitor  against  him  ;  "  far  be  it  from  me  to 
dictate,  only,  as  the  young  girls  are  in  bed,  and  already  much  fright- 
ened, you  would  be  acting  most  kindly  towards  them  if  you  would  be 
so  good  as  to  interrogate  me  here." 

"  Humph  ! — here  ! "  returned  the  magistrate,  grumbling.  "  A 
pretty  thing  for  a  person  like  me  to  be  dragged  out  of  bed  at  this  hour 
of  the  night !  Well — be  it  so — I  will  examine  you  here,  then,  since 
you  desire  it."  Then,  turning  to  the  innkeeper,  he  said,  "  Set  down 
your  lantern  on  that  bench,  and  leave  us." 

The  landlord  obeyed,  and  departed  with  his  followers,  equally 
disappointed  with  them  that  he  was  not  permitted  to  be  present  at  the 
examination. 

The  old  soldier  was  now  left  alone  with  the  burgomaster. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  INVESTIGATION. 

THE  worthy  burgomaster  of  Mockern,  attired  in  a  cloth  cap  and 
large  cloak,  seated  himself  on  the  bench,  which  groaned  beneath  his 
ponderous  weight ;  he  was  an  excessively  stout  man,  about  sixty  years 
of  age,  his  countenance  was  morose  and  forbidding,  and  he  kept  con- 
tinually applying  his  large  red  hands  to  rub  his  eyes,  which  were 
evidently  suffering  from  the  unusually  early  hour  at  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  throw  off  his  slumbers. 

Dagobert,  standing  beside  him,  holding  his  old  military  cap  in  his 
hands,  waited  his  inquiries  with  an  air  of  respectful  submission,  while 
\vit.h  a  timid  glance  at  the  harsh,  repulsive  features  of  the  magistrate, 
lie  sought  to  read  what  hopes  there  were  for  his  cause,  or  rather  that 
of  the  poor  orphans.  During  these  trying  moments  the  old  soldier 
6  G 


82  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

called  to  his  aid  all  his  coolness,  reason,  eloquence,  and  resolution : 
IIP  who  had  twenty  times  looked  on  death  with  calm  indifference  and 
despised  danger;  he  who,  self-possessed  and  firm,  because  tried  and 
sincere,  had  never  even  lowered  his  glance  before  the  eagle-eye  of  his 
emperor — his  hero,  his  divinity — now  found  himself  trembling  and 
utterly  confused  before  the  gaze  of  a  scowling  provincial  functionary. 

So  had  he  also  brought  himself  to  endure  with  imperturbable 
resignation  the  taunts  and  insults  of  the  prophet  on  the  preceding 
evening,  that  he  might  not,  by  indulging  in  suggestions  of  his  own 
chafed  spirit,  in  any  manner  compromise  the  sacred  mission  entrusted 
to  him  by  a  dying  mother ;  thus  proving  the  heroism  and  self-denial  a 
simple  upright  heart  can  attain. 

"  Come,  make  haste !  Let's  hear  what  you  have  to  say  in  your 
defence  I"  said  the  judge,  in  a  brutal  tone,  yawning  at  the  same  time 
with  impatient  drowsiness. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  defend,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  have  a  complaint  to  make,"  answered  Dagobert,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Are  you  going  to  teach  me,  fellow  I  in  what  form  I  am  to  put 
my  questions  ?"  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  in  so  sharp  a  manner  that 
the  veteran,  blaming  himself  for  having  so  badly  opened  the  con- 
versation, and  earnestly  seeking  to  propitiate  his  judge,  hastened  to 
reply  submissively, — 

"  Your  pardon,  M.  le  Bourgmestre !  I  expressed  myself  badly.  I 
only  wished  to  say  that  I  have  been  in  no  way  to  blame  in  the  late 
affair." 

"  The  prophet  says  differently." 

"  The  prophet !"  repeated  Dagobert,  with  a  contemptuous  smile. 
"A  most  pious,  worthy  man  !"  added  the  judge;  "  quite  incapable 
of  uttering  a  falsehood  !" 

"  That  is  a  point  on  which  I  have  nothing  to  say,  M.  le  Bourg- 
mestre ;  but  you  are  too  good  and  too  just  to  decide  without  hearing 
me.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  you  are  not  the  sort  of  person  to  deny 
justice  to  any  one.  I  feel  quite  sure  of  that,"  added  Dagobert.  who,  in 
thus  playing  a  courtier's  part  against  his  own  inclinations,  endeavoured 
to  render  his  performance  still  more  correct  by  softening  his  voice  and 
enlivening  his  austere  features  jvith  a  smiling,  conciliating,  and  winning 
expression.  "  A  man  like  you,"  continued  the  soldier,  redoubling  his 
flattery,  "  a  judge  so  highly  respectable,  does  not  hear  with  one  ear 
only." 

"  Ears  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  but,  as  far  as  'seeing' 
goes,  is  '  believing.'  Why,  my  eyes,  which  smart  as  though  they  had 
been  rubbed  with  nettles,  have  seen  the  hand  of  the  master  of  these 
wild  beasts,  and  it  is  dreadfully  torn." 

"  I  don't  dispute  that,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  but  only  consider,  if 
he  had  secured  his  door  and  the  cages  of  his  animals  properly,  none  of 
this  mischief  would  have  happened." 

"  Yes  it  would  :  it  was  all  your  fault.  You  ought  to  have  fastened 
your  horse  more  carefully  to  his  manger." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  quite  right,  nobody  can 
speak  more  sensibly,"  said  the  poor  soldier,  increasing  in  soft  concilia- 
tion and  flattery  in  proportion  as  he  perceived  the  prejudiced  view  his 
interrogator  had  already  taken  of  the  case.  "  It  is  not  for  a  poor  devil 


THE  INVESTIGATION.  83 

like  me  to  contradict  you  !  But  suppose  now  that  any  one,  for 
mischief's  sake,  had  untied  my  horse,  and  led  him  into  the  menagerie, 
you  would  say  then — would  you  not  ? — that  it  was  not  my  fault ;  or, 
at  least,"  said  the  old  man,  fearing  he  had  gone  too  far,  "  you  will  ad- 
mit that  fact  if  it  is  your  pleasure  to  think  so ;  because  it  is  not  for 
such  as  I  am  to  dictate  to  YOU  !" 

"  And  what,  in  the  devil's  name,  leads  you  to  suppose  any  body 
has  played  you  such  a  trick  ?  What  motive  could  they  have  had  ?" 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  imagine,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  "  but 
still •' 

"  But  still  you  don't  know  !  Well,  no  more  do  I,"  exclaimed  the 
burgomaster,  in  a  peevish  tone ;  then  added  impatiently,  "  Here's  a 
mighty  fuss  and  coil  about  the  carcase  of  a  dead  horse !" 

The  countenance  of  the  old  soldier  at  these  words  lost  all  its 
assumed  gentleness,  its  harsh  expression  returned,  and  he  replied,  in  a 
serious  and  agitated  voice, — 

"  True,  but  a  carcase  remains  of  my  old  friend — my  faithful  horse, 
who  but  a  few  hours  ago  was  so  full  of  health  and  courage,  and  though 
old,  still  so  intelligent  and  vigorous.  Scarcely  an  hour  ago  he  neighed 
joyfully  at  me  as  I  gave  him  his  meal,  and  each  night  he  licked  the 
hands  of  the  dear  children  he  carried  through  the  long  day,  even  as  he 
had  borne  their  mother.  But  now  he  will  never  rejoice  in  my  ap- 
proach, never  again  carry  his  kind  mistress  or  her  children ;  he  is  fit 
but  to  be  thrown  on  the  dunghill  and  to  become  the  food  of  dogs, 
that  is  all  he  is  good  for  now.  It  was  not  worth  while,  M.  le  Bourg- 
mestre, to  recall  all  this  to  me  so  cruelly,  for  I  dearly  loved  my  poor 
horse." 

These  words,  pronounced  with  a  simple,  dignified  manner  and  tone, 
made  the  functionary  feel  sorry  that  he  had  provoked  the  regrets  of  a 
man  who  thus  loved  even  a  horse ;  he  hastily  interrupted  Dagobert, 
saying,  in  a  voice  of  greater  kindness, — 

"  I  can  suppose  you  regret  the  loss  of  your  beast ;  but  what  can  be 
said  ?  It  is  an  accident,  and  you  must  bear  it.  I  will  even  say  it  is  a 
misfortune." 

"  A  misfortune,  M.  le  Bourgmestro,  of  the  deepest  consequences. 
The  two  young  girls  whom  I  am  accompanying  are  not  strong  enough 
to  undertake  a  long  journey  on  foot,  and  are  too  poor  to  travel  by 
any  public  conveyance ;  and  yet  it  is  indispensable  that  we  should  be 
in  Paris  before  the  month  of  February.  I  promised  the  mother  of 
these  children,  on  her  death-bed,  to  conduct  them  to  the  time  and 
place  she  desired.  And  the  poor  things  have  no  one  in  the  world  to 
protect  them  but  me." 

"  You,  then,  are  their " 

"  Most  faithful  friend  and  servant,  M.  le  Bourgmestre ;  and  now 
that  they  have  killed  my  horse,  how  shall  I  be  able  to  proceed  on  my 
journey  ?  You  who  look  so  good  and  speak  so  kind  have,  perhaps, 
children  of  your  own.  Oh  !  if  they  should  ever  be  situated  as  my  poor 
orphans  are,  with  no  other  possessions  in  the  world  than  an  old  soldier 
and  an  equally  aged  horse, — if,  after  having  been  born  and  reared  in  mi- 
sery, for  these  dear  children  were  bom  in  exile,  where  their  poor  mother 
died — if,  after  passing  their  early  days  in  sorrow  and  banishment,  a 
bright  future  awaited  them  at  the  end  of  this  journey,  and  if  this 


84  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

journey  were  rendered  impossible  by  the  loss  of  the  horse,  would  not 
their  painful  position  move  you  to  pity  them  ?  and  would  you  not,  like 
me,  look  upon  the  death  of  your  horse  as  an  irreparable  misfortune?" 

"  Certainly  I  should,"  answered  the  burgomaster,  who  was  not  a 
bad-hearted  man,  though  hasty  and  abrupt  in  the  discharge  of  his 
duty,  and  who  began  to  feel  a  powerful  sympathy  with  the  sorrows  of 
the  old  soldier.  "  And  I  can  well  believe  the  loss  of  your  beast  is  a 
most  serious  loss  to  you ;  but  I  feel  interested  in  the  fate  of  your 
orphan  children  :  what  are  their  ages  ?" 

"  Fifteen  years  and  two  months.     They  are  twin  sisters." 

"  Fifteen  years  and  two  months !  Very  nearly  the  same  age  as 
my  Frederica." 

"  You  have,  then,  a  daughter  of  similar  age  ?"  inquired  Dagobert, 
fresh  hope  springing  up  at  the  idea.  "  Thank  Heaven !  for  now, 
M.  le  Bourgmestre,  the  fate  of  my  poor  orphans  no  longer  disquiets 
me.  You,  a  wise  and  upright  judge,  and,  moreover,  a  parent,  will  see 
justice  done  us." 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  What  is  the  use  of  my  being  a  magistrate 
else  ?  But  really,  in  this  affair  between  you  and  the  prophet,  I  think 
the  case  is  pretty  equal.  On  the  one  hand,  you  failed  in  securing 
your  horse  properly  in  his  stable ;  he  gets  out.  Well,  then  the  beast- 
tamer  leaves  his  menagerie  door  open.  Then  he  asserts,  '  I  have  been 
wounded  in  the  hand.'  To  which  you  reply,  '  My  horse  has  been 
killed,  and,  for  various  reasons,  the  loss  of  my  horse  is  irreparable.' " 

"  You  express  my  meaning  far  better  than  I  could  do  it  myself, 
M.  le  Bourgmestre,"  said  the  veteran,  with  a  humble  and  quiescent 
smile.  "  That  is  just  the  sense  of  what  I  should  say  if  I  were  to  talk 
for  an  hour,  for  even  you,  M.  le  Magistral,  admit  that  the  horse  his 
beast  killed  was  all  I  possessed  in  the  world,  and  that,  therefore,  it  is 
but  just " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  replied  the  burgomaster,  interrupting  the 
soldier,  "  your  reasoning  is  excellent ;  besides,  the  prophet,  who  is  as 
clever  as  he  is  pious  and  good,  has  very  clearly  laid  all  the  facts  of  the 
case  before  me,  added  to  which,  he  is  well  known  here.  You  see  we 
are  all  devout  Catholics  in  this  village,  and  this  holy  man  sells  exceed- 
ingly cheap  and  wondrously  edifying  books  among  our  young  people  ; 
then  he  lets  our  wives  and  daughters  have  his  rosaries,  chaplets,  and 
figmis  Dei,  almost  at  a  loss.  To  be  sure,  as  you  will  justly  observe,  that 
has  not  much  to  do  with  the  present  affair.  Nor  more  it  has  ;  and  yet 
I  declare,  upon  my  conscience  as  an  honest  man,  that  when  I  came  up 
stairs  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to " 

"  To  decide  against  me ! — was  it  not  so,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  ?  "  re- 
turned Dagobert,  becoming  each  instant  more  re-assured  as  to  his 
success.  "  Ah,  that  was  because  you  were  only  half-awake.  Your 
justice  had  only  opened  one  eye. 

"  Good,  my  friend  ! "  answered  the  burgomaster,  now  roused  into 
perfect  serenity  of  temper ;  "  it  may  be  as  you  say — for,  at  my  first 
coming  hither,  I  did  not  conceal  from  Morok  that  I  considered  he  was 
the  party  aggrieved,  and  should  decide  accordingly ;  when  he  very 
generously  remarked,  '  Then,  since  you  pronounce  in  my  favour,  I 
will  not  aggravate  the  position  of  my  adversary  by  telling  you  what  I 
otherwise  could  concerning  him." 


THE  INVESTIGATION.  83 

"  Concerning  me  ?  and  to  my  prejudice  ?  " 

"  So  it  would  seem  :  but,  like  a  generous  enemy,  he  was  silent, 
after  I  had  assured  him  that,  according  to  appearances,  I  should  sen- 
tence j'ou  (conditionally)  to  make  him  an  ample  atonement  for  the  pain 
and  trouble  you  had  occasioned  him ;  for  I  will  candidly  inform  you, 
that,  before  you  had  adduced  such  good  reasons  to  make  me  think  you 
less  to  blame  than  I  had  been  led  to  believe  you  were,  I  had  fully  re- 
solved on  adjudging  you  to  pay  a  very  heavy  indemnity  to  the  prophet 
for  the  wound  inflicted  through  your  carelessness  on  his  hand." 

"  You  see  now,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  how  possible  it  is  for  even  the 
most  just  and  clever  men  to  be  deceived  :  however,  the  wiser  the  man 
the  readier  he  is  to  acknowledge  his  error ;  and  no  prophet,  witch,  or 
wizard,  can  hinder  him  from  seeing  clearly  at  last,"  added  Dagobert, 
reassuming  his  flattering  tone  and  manner,  hoping,  by  increased  atten- 
tion to  his  judge,  to  win  his  favourable  consideration  for  his  just  de- 
mand for  the  means  of  prosecuting  his  journey  without  delay. 

The  burgomaster  appeared,  however,  to  take  little  note  of  the 
veteran's  strenuous  attempts  to  place  himself  and  his  cause  in  a  pro- 
pitious light,  until,  looking  up,  he  perceived  the  chuckling,  self-satisfied 
air  of  Dagobert,  whose  countenance  seemed  to  say,  "  What  do  you 
think  of  my  powers  of  persuasion  ?  I  am  quite  surprised  at  my  own 
skill  and  manoeuvres."  Upon  which  the  magistrate  smiled — a  smile 
of  paternal  patronage  ;  then  added,  with  a  miserable  attempt  at  a  joke, 

*'  Ay  !  ay  I  you  are  right  about  clever  men,  and  being  con- 
vinced ;  and  the  prophet  will  turn  out  a  FALSE  prophet  THIS  time. — 
No,  no!  I  shall  not  inflict  any  penalty  upon  you,  because  I  think 
one  has  as  much  to  complain  of  as  the  other ;  and  so  one  piece  of 
mischief  makes  up  for  the  other;  he  has  received  a  severe  wound,  and 
your  horse  has  been  killed :  so  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  even  witii 
one  another." 

"  And  how  much  do  you  suppose  he  ought  to  pay  me  ?  "  inquired 
the  soldier,  with  singular  simplicity. 

"  What  is  that  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  ask,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  the  amount  of  the  sum  he  shall  give 
me?" 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  talking  about  ?     What  sum  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  sum.  But,  before  you  name  it,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  I  must 
tell  you  one  thing — I  consider  that  I  have  a  right  to  employ  the  money 
as  I  please  ;  therefore  I  shall  not  expend  it  all  in  the  purchase  of  a 
horse.  I  am  quite  sure  that,  among  the  country  people  in  the  en- 
virons of  Leipsic,  I  shall  find  a  horse  at  a  cheap  price  ;  and  I  will  even 
go  so  far  as  to  own,  between  ourselves,  that  if  even  I  could  meet  with 
a  good  strong  ass,  I  would  try  to  make  shift  with  it — not  that  1  should 
like  it  nearly  so  well.  But  another  horse  would  be  almost  painful  to 
me,  after  my  poor  Jovial,  the  companion  of  so  many  journeys  ;  there- 
fore, I  ought  to  say  to  you " 

"  What  are  you  gabbling  about  ? "  cried  the  burgomaster,  inter- 
rupting Dagobert.  "  And  what  money,  ass,  or  other  horse  are  you  talk- 
ing of?  I  tell  you  again,  that  you  owe  nothing  to  the  prophet, 
neither  does  he  owe  you  any  thing ! " 

"  Not  owe  me  any  thing  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  very  thick  skull,  my  good  man ;   there  seems  no 


86  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

knocking  any  sense  into  it.  I  tell  you  once  more,  and  for  the  last 
time,  that  if  the  wild  beasts  belonging  to  the  prophet  have  killed  your 
horse,  the  prophet  himself  has  been  severely  wounded,  so  you  are 
even  with  each  other ;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  I  will  say  that  he  has 
nothing  to  repay  you,  neither  have  you  him.  Now  have  I  made  you 
comprehend  ?  " 

Dagobert,  quite  stupified  at  finding  his  hopes  thus  destroyed  by  so 
unfair  a  decision,  remained  for  some  time  regarding  the  burgomaster 
with  an  expression  of  deep  anguish  of  mind. 

At  length  he  replied,  in  a  voice  in  which  powerful  emotion  strove 
against  his  forced  calmness, 

"  Nay,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  you  are,  I  am  sure,  too  just  to  over- 
look one  circumstance.  The  wound  received  by  the  owner  of  the 
beasts  will  not  prevent  his  continuing  his  daily  occupation,  while  the 
death  of  my  horse  entirely  prevents  me  from  proceeding  on  my  journey. 
Surely  that  ought  to  make  a  great  difference  between  us,  and  call  for 
his  indemnifying  me  for  the  loss  I  have  sustained." 

The  magistrate,  as  we  before  stated,  thought  he  had  done  much 
for  Dagobert  in  excusing  him  from  making  any  recompense  to  the 
prophet,  who,  as  was  previously  stated,  was  in  the  habit  of  currying 
favour  with  the  female  part  of  the  village,  by  selling  them  cheap 
articles  of  a  religious  character,  such  as  rosaries,  chaplets,  and  other 
trifles,  said  to  be  endowed  with  marvellous  powers ;  he  also  vended 
spiritual  pamphlets  and  Scriptural  tracts,!at  so  small  a  price  as  rendered 
him,  combined  with  the  reported  sanctity  of  his  life,  an  excessive  fa- 
vourite among  all  the  strict  Catholics  in  the  place :  added  to  this,  he 
was  well  known  to  be  powerfully  aided  and  protected  by  persons  of 
high  rank  and  power,  so  that  it  became  no  easy  matter  to  decide  any 
point  against  him.  Thus,  then,  the  importunity  of  the  soldier  greatly 
displeased  his  judge,  who,  resuming  his  original  harsh  and  severe  as- 
pect, replied,  angrily, 

"  Do  you  wish  to  make  me  regret  my  impartiality  ?  What ! 
instead  of  thanking  me,  you  have  the  face  to  make  further  demands  ?" 

"  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  I  ask  but  for  that  which  is  just  and  right.  I 
would  gladly  suffer  my  hand  to  be  more  severely  injured  than  is  that  of 
the  prophet,  so  I  could  but  continue  my  journey." 

"  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  you  would  like  or  dislike.  I 
have  pronounced  judgment — the  case  is  ended." 

"  But,  M.  le  Bourgmestre " 

"  Enough,  enough,  I  tell  you  I  No  more  of  it.  Let  us  proceed 
to  the  next  thing.  Shew  me  your  passport  and  papers." 

"  Yes,  we  will  talk  about  the  papers  directly ;  but,  I  beseech  you, 
M.  le  Bourgmestre,  to  have  pity  on  the  two  poor  children  yonder — 
give  us  the  means  of  proceeding  on  our  journey,  and " 

"  I  tell  you  I  have  done  all  that  1  can  do,  perhaps  more  than  I 
ought  to  have  done.  Once  again,  let  me  see  your  papers !  " 

"  Let  me  first  explain  to  you " 

"  I  will  listen  to  no  explanations.  Your  papers,  I  say  !  Do  you 
mean  to  make  me  send  you  to  prison  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond  ?  " 

"  Me  I     Send  me  to  prison  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  shall,  if  you  refuse  to  give  me  your  papers.  Unless 
you  immediately  produce  them,  I  shall  treat  you  as  though  you  had 


- 


1JP"* 

sSlt 


THE    BURGOMASTER. 
P.  87. 


n:  Chapman  an. I  Hall.     Janu.irx  I, 


THE  INVESTIGATION.  87 

none  to  produce ;  and,  in  that  case,  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  arrest 
you  as  a  suspicious  character,  and  place  you  under  confinement,  until 
the  proper  authorities  have  decided  what  shall  be  done  with  you. 
Now,  then,  if  you  please,  these  papers;  and  let  us  be  quick,  for  I  want 
to  get  home  again." 

The  position  of  Dagobert  was  the  more  insupportably  trying  from 
the  false  hope  which  had,  until  the  last  few  minutes,  induced  him  to 
believe  justice  would  ceitainly  be  done  him.  This  last  blow  was  the 
climax  of  all  the  misery  the  veteran  had  endured  through  this  eventful 
night — a  trial  as  severe  as  dangerous  to  a  man  of  Dagobert's  firm, 
honest,  but  unbending  nature,  who,  long  inured  to  the  proud  satisfac- 
tion of  being  honoured  and  esteemed  as  a  soldier  who  had  victoriously 
shed  his  blood  for  his  country,  and  regarded  by  his  superiors  with 
confidence  and  esteem,  had  rather  indulged  in  a  contemptuous  des- 
potism towards  all  mere  "  bourgeois,"  like  the  magistrate  who  now 
held  his  fate  in  his  hands.  At  the  oft-repeated  words,  "  Your  papers," 
the  old  soldier's  colour  fled  his  cheeks  and  lips ;  the  blood  seemed  to 
retreat  from  his  heart  at  the  thoughts  of  being  ignominiously  dragged 
to  prison  at  so  critical  a  moment,  but  still  striving  to  conquer  th*c  agony 
of  his  feelings,  and  veil  his  fears  beneath  an  appearance  of  confidence, 
which  might,  after  all,  win  the  magistrate  to  befriend  him,  he  said, — 

"  I  will  tell  you,  in  two  words,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  how  I  am 
situated  at  present — the  thing  is  simple  enough,  and  might  happen  to 
any  one.  1  do  not  look  like  a  rogue  or  vagabond,  do  I  ?  And  yet, 
you  can  imagine  that  a  man  like  me,  travelling  with  two  young 
girls " 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  make  all  this  parleying  about?  Produce 
your  papers  and  have  done  1" 

At  this  juncture,  two  unexpected  allies  arrived  to  assist  the  old 
soldier — the  orphans,  whose  uneasiness  momentarily  increased  as 
they  heard  Dagobert's  voice  still  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation ; 
they  therefore  arose  and  dressed  themselves,  so  that,  at  the  instant 
that  the  magistrate  was  loudly  exclaiming,  "  What  is  all  this  talk 
about  ?  Deliver  up  your  papers  instantly"  Rose  and  Blanche  came 
out  on  the  staircase,  holding  each  other  by  the  hand. 

At  the  sight  of  these  young  and  lovely  beings,  rendered  still  more 
interesting  by  their  humble  dress  of  entire  mourning,  the  burgomaster 
rose  from  his  seat,  struck  with  sudden  surprise  and  admiration.  By  a 
simultaneous  movement,  each  sister  clung  to  the  side  of  their  old 
friend,  and  taking  each  of  them  one  of  his  large  hands  in  theirs,  looked 
up  in  the  face  of  the  magistrate  with  a  timid  yet  ingenuous  glance. 

A  more  exquisitely  touching  group  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than 
Mas  thus  presented — the  rough,  toilworn  soldier,  standing  between. the 
young  and  delicate  children,  clinging  to  him  in  trustful  love,  while  he 
seemed  as  though  presenting  their  youth  and  innocence  to  the  eyes  of 
his  judge,  in  M-arranty  of  his  own  integrity  and  honour  in  being  thus 
accompanied.  Unstudied  as  had  been  the  scene,  it  had  its  full  effect 
upon  the  magistrate,  and  again  filled  his  heart  with  commiseration 
for  their  orphan  state.  The  veteran  quickly  remarked  the  change  in 
the  austere  countenance  of  the  burgomaster,  and,  advancing  towards 
him,  holding  the  sisters  by  the  hand,  he  said,— 

"  Behold  these  poor  helpless  orphan  girls,  M.  le  Bourgmestre  ! 
What  better  passport  could  you  desire  ?" 


88  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Aud  overcome  by  a  crowd  of  painful  and  long-repressed  feelings, 
the  eyes  of  Dagobert  filled  with  large  drops  which  threatened  to  over- 
flow. 

Although  naturally  abrupt,  and  rendered  still  more  churlish  by 
being  disturbed  out  of  his  sleep,  the  burgomaster  was,  in  reality, 
neither  den* cent  in  good  sense  nor  feeling,  and  he  felt  how  impossible  it 
was  to  suspect  or  mistrust  a  man  thus  accompanied." 

"  Poor  dear  children  !"  said  he,  examining  them  with  increased 
at  trillion  ;  "  orphans  at  so  early  an  age  !  And  they  come  from  some 
distance  you  say  ?" 

"  From  the  most  distant  part  of  Siberia,  M.  le  Bourgmestre, 
where  their  mother  was  exiled  before  they  were  born.  We  have 
already  been  five  months  on  our  journey,  coming  short  distances  at  a 
time ;  that  is  no  small  hardship  for  young  creatures  like  them.  It  is 
for  them  alone  I  seek  your  favour  and  kind  assistance — for  these  poor 
things,  who  seem  doomed  to  misfortune.  For  just  now,  when  I  went 
to  look  for  my  papers,  in  the  bag  I  always  carried  them  in,  I  could 
neither ^find  the  pocket-book  in  which  I  had  placed  them,  my  purse, 
nor  my  cross ;  for,  excuse  me,  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  I  do  not  say  it  to 
boast  of  myself,  but  I  have  been  decorated  by  the  emperor's  own 
hand  with  the  cross  of  honour,  and  a  man  whom  his  hand  thus  dis- 
tinguished cannot  be  a  bad  man,  though  he  may  unfortunately  have 
lost  his  papers  and  his  money :  so  now  you  see  exactly  how  we  are 
circumstanced,  and  why  I  was  so  earnest  about  being  indemnified  for 
the  loss  of  my  horse." 

"  And  where,  and  in  what,  manner,  did  you  lose  these  things  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  M.  le  Bourgmestre.  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  evening 
before  last  I  took  a  small  sum  of  money  out  of  my  purse,  and  that  I 
then  saw  the  pocket-book  quite  safe.  The  money,  trifling  as  it  was, 
supplied  all  our  wants  through  yesterday,  so  that  I  had  no  occasion  to 
undo  the  bag  again." 

"  And  yesterday,  and  up  to  the  present  minute,  where  has  your  bag 
been  kept  ?" 

"  Through  the  day,  while  travelling,  with  ourselves ;  at  night,  in 
the  room  where  these  children  slept.  But  this  night " 

Dagobert  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps. 
It  was  the  prophet. 

Concealed  in  the  dark  shadow  of  the  staircase,  he  had  overheard  this 
conversation,  and  hastened,  by  his  presence,  to  prevent  the  full  accom- 
plishment of  his  schemes,  almost  realized,  from  being  destroyed  by  the 
weakness  and  vacillation  of  the  burgomaster. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  RESULT. 

MOROK,  who  carried,  his  left  arm  in  a  sling,  ascended  the  stair- 
case slowly,  and  saluted  the  burgomaster  respectfully. 

At  the  sight  of  the  sinister  aspect  of  the  brute-conqueror,  Rose 
and  Blanche  shuddered,  and  drew  closer  to  the  soldier,  whose  cheek 


THE  RESULT.  89 

burned  again  as  he  felt  his  gall  rise  against  Morok,  the  cause  of  his 
distressing  embarrassment.  He  was  not  aware,  besides,  that  Goliath 
had,  at  the  instigation  of  the  prophet,  stolen  his  pocket-book  and 
papers. 

"  What  seek  you,  Morok  ?"  inquired  the  burgomaster,  with  an  air 
half-kind,  half-angry;  "  I  told  the  innkeeper  I  wished  to  be  alone." 

"  I  came  to  render  you  a  service,  M.  le  Bourgmestre." 

"  A  service  ?" 

"  A  great  service ;  but  for  which  I  should  not  have  disturbed 
you.  But  a  scruple  has  arisen  in  my  mind." 

"  A  scruple  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  reproached  myself  for  not  having  told  you  all  I 
knew  of  this  man  ;  but  I  was  deterred  by  a  false  feeling  of  pity." 

"  Well,  what  then  have  you  to  disclose  ?" 

Morok  approached  the  judge,  and  spoke  to  him  for  some  time  in  an 
undertone. 

The  burgomaster  appeared  at  first  greatly  astonished,  and  then 
very  attentive  and  anxious.  From  time  to  time  an  expression  of  sur- 
prise escaped  him — then  of  doubt,  looking,  as  he  did  so,  at  Dagobert 
and  the  two  young  girls. 

By  these  looks,  which  grew  darker  and  more  uneasy,  it  was  easy  to 
perceive  that  the  whispering  of  the  prophet  affected  and  destroyed  the 
interest  which  the  magistrate  had  at  first  expressed  for  the  orphans 
and  the  soldier,  converting  the  feeling  of  kindness  into  mistrust  and 
hostility. 

Dagobert  saw  this  sudden  change,  and  his  fears,  allayed  for  the 
moment,  revived  in  double  force.  Hose  and  Blanche  looked  at  the 
soldier  in  amazement  and  anxiety,  unable  to  comprehend  what  was 
passing. 

"  The  devil !"  said  the  burgomaster,  rising  hastily.  "  I  could  never 
have  believed  it !  What  could  I  have  been  thinking  of?  But  you  see, 
Morok,  when  a  man  is  aroused  in  the  middle  of  the  night  he  has  not 
all  his  wits  about  him  so  readily  ;  but  I  fully  appreciate  the  great  ser- 
vice you  have  rendered  me,  and  am  very  much  -obliged  to  you." 

"  Mind,  I  do  not  say  it  is  all  certain,  but " 

"  Never  mind,  it's  a  thousand  to  one  that  you  are  perfectly  cor- 
rect" 

"  It  is  only  my  suspicion,  founded,  it  ia  true,  on  certain  circum- 
stances ;  but  still,  only  a  suspicion  •" 

"  May  lead  us  to  the  direct  truth.  And  here  was  I,  going  like  a 
bird  into  the  snare  I  Again,  I  say,  where  was  my  sense  when " 

"  It  is  difficult  to  find  excuse  for  certain  appearances " 

"  To  whom  do  you  allude,  my  dear  Morok  ?     To  whom  ?" 

During  this  mysterious  conversation  Dagobert  was  on  thorns  ;  ho 
frit  all  the  presentiment  of  a  storm  that  was  bursting  upon  him,  and 
only  considered  how  he  should  repress  his  rage. 

Morok  went  closer  to  the  judge,  and  pointing  to  the  orphan  girls 
again,  began  to  speak  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ah  1"  cried  the  burgomaster,  with  indignation,  "  now  you  are 
going  too  far." 

"  I  affirm  nothing,"  said  Morok,  hastily ;  "  it  is  a  simple  pre- 
sumption based  on——" 


90  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

And  again  he  whispered  in  the  judge's  ear. 

"  After  all,  why  not?"  said  the  judge,  raising  his  hands  to  heaven. 
"  Such  people  arc  capable  of  any  thing.  He  said,  too,  he  had  come 
from  the  further  end  of  Siberia  with  them ;  that  proves  that  his  whole 
tale  is  but  a  pack  of  lies.  But  nobody  makes  a  fool  of  me  twice," 
exclaimed  the  burgomaster,  in  a  wrathful  tone ;  for,  like  all  persons  of 
a  weak  and  fickle  mind,  he  had  no  mercy  toward*  those  whom  he 
thought  capable  of  practising  any  deceit  on  him. 

"  Do  not,  however,  decide  too  hastily,"  said  Morok,  in  a  voice  of 
hypocritical  pity  and  compunction  ;  "  do  not  allow  my  words  to  have 
more  weight  than  is  really  due  to  them.  My  position  with  this  man 
(pointing  to  Dagobert)  is  unfortunately  so  false,  that  it  might  be 
imagined  that  I  was  acting  from  resentment  of  the  ill  he  has  caused 
me ;  and  perhaps,  unknown  to  myself,  I  may  be  so  influenced,  whilst 
I  am  supposing  that  I  am  solely  impelled  by  a  love  of  justice,  a 
horror  of  falsehood,  and  profound  reverence  for  our  holy  religion.  He 
who  lives  longest  will  see  most — may  the  Lord  pardon  me  if  I  err ! — 
let  justice  be  done  I  If  they  are  innocent,  they  will  be  free  in  a  month 
or  two." 

"  That  is  why  I  shall  not  hesitate  ;  it  is  but  a  simple  measure  of 
prudence,  and  they  will  not  die  by  that.  Besides,  the  more  I  reflect, 
the  more  probable  it  seems  to  me.  Yes,  this  man  is  a  spy  or  French 
agitator,  particularly  when  we  place  beside  these  suspicions  the  display 
of  the  students  of  Frankfort.'' 

"  And  supposing  it  to  be  so,  there  is  nothing  which  would  excite 

and  inflame  the  heads  of  those  young  fools  like "  and  Morok  gave 

a  quick  and  meaning  glance  at  the  two  sisters  ;  then,  after  a  moment's 
significant  silence,  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  The  Evil  One  avails  himself 
of  all  means." 

"  Certainly  it  is  a  detestable  idea,  but  therefore  the  more  skilfully 
designed." 

"  Then,  sir,  look  attentively  at  this  man.  Did  you  ever  see  a 
more  dangerous  countenance?  Look  I"  and  as  he  whispered,  Morok 
pointed  at  Dagobert. 

In  spite  of  the  control  he  exercised  over  himself,  the  constraint  he 
had  displayed  since  his  arrival  in  this  cursed  auberge,  and  particularly 
since  the  commencement  of  Morok's  conversation  with  the  burgo- 
master, yet  he  could  no  longer  restrain  himself.  He  saw  too  clearly 
that  his  efforts  to  conciliate  the  judge  were  utterly  destroyed  by  the 
fatal  influence  and  interference  of  the  brute-tamer;  and,  losing  all 
patience,  he  went  up  to  him,  and  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest,  said 
to  him,  in  a  constrained  tone, — 

"  Are  you  talking  of  me  to  the  burgomaster  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Morok  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  Then  why  not  speak  out?" 

The  convulsive  twitches  of  the  thick  moustaches  of  Dagobert,  who 
having  uttered  these  words  looked  steadfastly  into  Morok's  very  eyes, 
betokened  the  violent  contest  which  was  working  within  him.  Seeing 
that  his  adversary  kept  up  a  provoking  silence,  he  said  to  him,  in  a 
louder  voice, — 

"  I  ask  you  why  you  speak  in  whisper*  to  the  burgomaster,  if  I  was 
the  subject  of  your  conversation  ?" 


THE  RBSULT.  91 

"  Because  there  are  things  so  shameful  that  one  would  blush  to 
pronounce  them  aloud,"  replied  Morok,  insultingly. 

Dagobert  had  till  then  kept  his  arms  folded,  but  he  suddenly  ex- 
tended them  with  his  fists  clenched.  This  rapid  movement  was  so 
expressive,  that  the  two  sisters  came  to  him  uttering  a  cry  of  alarm. 

"  Mister  Burgomaster,"  said  the  soldier,  from  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  "  bid  this  man  depart,  or  I  will  not  answer  for  myself  1" 

"  What!"  said  the  burgomaster,  angrily,  "do  you  give  your  orders 

to  me?  do  you  dare " 

"  I  tell  you  to  desire  this  man  to  depart,"  said  Dagobert,  whose 
anger  was  now  unrestrained  ;  "  or  something  will  happen  to  him  ! " 

"  Dagobert,  mon  Dieu  i  calm  yourself!"  exclaimed  the  children, 
taking  hold  of  his  hands. 

"  It  is  just  like  a  miserable  vagabond,  as  you  are,  to  give  your 
orders  here  ! "  replied  the  burgomaster  in  a  rage.  "  What,  you 
thought  it  would  be  enough  for  me,  to  say  that  you  had  lost  your 
papers  !  You  are  playing  a  fine  game,  dragging  these  young  girls  about 
with  you,  who,  in  spite  of  their  innocent  looks,  may  be -" 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  interrupting  the  burgomaster,  with 
a  gesture  and  look  so  threatening  that  thejustice  was  afraid  to  go  on. 

The  soldier  took  the  children  by  their  arms,  and,  before  they  could 
utter  a  word,  put  them  into  their  chamber,  of  which  he  quietly  closed 
the  door  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  He  then  turned  hastily  round 
upon  the  burgomaster,  who,  alarmed  at  the  threatening  attitude  and 
aspect  of  the  veteran,  recoiled  several  paces,  and  put  his  ha«d  on  the 
balustrade  of  the  staircase. 

"  Hear  me,  you  !  "  said  the  soldier,  laying  hold  of  the  judge's  arm. 
"  Just  now  this  fellow  (he  pointed  to  Morok)  insulted  me;  I  bore  it,  be- 
cause myself  only  was  concerned.  Again  I  have  listened  patiently  to  your 
stupid  remarks,  because  you  seemed  for  a  moment  to  interest  yourself  in 
these  unfortunate  children  ;  but  since  you  have  neither  heart,  pity, 
nor  justice,  I  tell  you  to  your  beard,  burgomaster  though  you  are,  I 
will  come  across  you  as  I  have  already  done  to  this  hound  (pointing 
again  to  the  prophet),  if  you  dare  to  breathe  one  syllable  against 
these  two  poor  girls  which  you  would  not  say  of  your  own  daughter. 
Do  you  understand  me,  burgomaster  ?  " 

"  What — you  dare  I "  stammered  the  indignant  burgomaster,  "  that 
if  I  speak  of  these  two  wanderers— — " 

"  Your  hat  off  when  you  speak  of  the  daughters  of  the  Marshal 
Duke  de  Ligny,"*  cried  the  soldier,  snatching  off  the  burgomaster's 
bonnet  and  throwing  it  at  his  feet. 

At  this  Morok  bounded  with  joy. 

In  fact,  Dagobert,  exasperated  as  he  was,  renounced  all  hope,  and, 
unfortunately,  allowed  his  indignation  full  vent. 

When  the  burgomaster  saw  his  bonnet  at  his  feet,  he  looked  at 
the  tamer  of  brutes  with  an  air  of  stupefaction,  as  if  he  could  not  com- 
prehend the  enormity  of  the  offence. 

Dagobert,  regretting  his  offence,  and  knowing  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  reconciliation  left,  took  a  hasty  glance  around  him,  and,  re- 
treating a  few  paces,  gained  the  first  steps  of  the  staircase. 

*  In  a  former  chapter,  by  an  error  of  the  French  copyist,  General  Simon  has 
been  called  Duke  de  Montmirail,  instead  of  Duke  de  Ligny. 


92  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  burgomaster  stood  beside  a  bench  in  a  corner  of  the  landing- 
place  ;  Morok,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  in  order  to  give  a  more  serious 
aspect  to  his  wound,  was  near  the  magistrate,  who,  deceived  by  Dago- 
bert's  movement,  cried,  j 

"  Ah  !  you  think  to  escape,  after  having  dared  to  lay  hands  on  me; 
do  you,  you  miserable  old  fellow,  you  ?  " 

"  Mister  Burgomaster,  forgive  me.  I  could  not  control  a  feeling 
too  quick  for  me ;  I  am  sorry  for  my  offence,"  said  Dagobert,  in  a 
tone  of  repentance,  and  bowing  very  humbly. 

"  I  have  no  pity  for  you,  fellow  I  You  want  to  come  over  me 
again  with  your  gammon ;  but  I  see  through  your  tricks.  You  are 
not  what  you  seem  to  be,  and  there  may  be  some  state  secret  at  the 
bottom  of  all  this,"  added  the  magistrate,  with  a  very  diplomatic  air  : — 
"  every  means  is  resorted  to  by  persons  anxious  to  set  all  Europe  by 
the  ears." 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  devil,  M.  le  Bourgmestre.  You  who  have  so  good 
a  heart  should  have  pity." 

"  What,  when  you  have  snatched  of  my  bonnet  ?  " 

"  But  you,"  added  the  soldier,  turning  to  Morok,  "  you  are  the 
cause  of  all  this :  pity  me,  and  do  not  shew  malice.  You,  who  are  a 
holy  man,  say  at  least  a  word  in  my  favour  to  the  burgomaster." 

"  I  have  said  to  him  what  I  ought  to  say  to  him,"  replied  the  pro- 
phet, ironically. 

"  Ah,  now,  you  vagabond !  you  are  very  sorry.  You  thought  to 
humbug  me  with  your  tales  of  woe,"  added  the  burgomaster,  advanc- 
ing towards  Dagobert ;  "  but,  Heaven  be  praised,  I  am  no  longer  your 
dupe.  You  will  see  that  at  Leipsic  there  are  good  dungeons  for 
French  emissaries  and  wandering  misses  ;  for  your  girls  are  no  better 
than  yourself.  Go ! "  added  he,  swelling  with  impatience,  "  go  down 
before  me  ;  as  to  you,  Morok " 

The  burgomaster  could  not  conclude. 

For  some  minutes  Dagobert  had  only  tried  to  gain  time ;  he  saw, 
from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  a  half-open  door  looking  on  the  staircase, 
and  opposite  the  room  occupied  by  the  orphans.  He  found  the  mo- 
ment favourable,  and  darting  with  the  quickness  of  lightning  on  the 
burgomaster,  and  seizing  him  by  the  throat,  threw  him  so  powerfully 
against  the  half-open  door,  that  the  bewildered  magistrate  could  not 
utter  a  word  or  cry,  but  rolled  prostrate  to  the  further  end  of  this 
chamber,  which  was  in  utter  darkness. 

Then  turning  on  Morok,  who,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  seeing  the 
staircase  free,  had  hastened  towards  it,  the  soldier  seized  him  by  his 
long  hair,  and,  dragging  him  towards  him,  grasped  him  in  his  iron 
arms,  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  prevent  his  cries,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  determined  resistance,  pushed  and  dragged  him  into  the  cham- 
ber, at  the  bottom  of  which  the  burgomaster  lay  bruised  and  giddy. 

Having  double-locked  the  door,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket, 
Dagobert  darted  down  the  staircase,  which  led  to  the  court-yard. 
The  inn-gate  was  closed,  and  it  was  impossible  to  get  out  that  way. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents ;  and  he  saw,  through  the  window-panes 
of  a  lower  room,  lighted  by  a  fire,  the  landlord  and  his  people  awaiting 
the  decision  of  the  burgomaster. 

To  bolt  the  door  of  this  back  stair,  and  cut  off  all  communication 


TUB  RESULT.  93 

with  the  court-yard,  was  with  the  soldier  but  the  work  of  a  second, 
and  he  then  went  quickly  up  the  stairs  to  rejoin  the  orphans. 

Morok,  recovering  himself,  called  loudly  for  help ;  but,  even  if  his 
cries  could  have  been  heard  at  the  distance,  the  wind  and  rain  would 
have  stifled  them. 

Dagobert  had  perhaps  an  hour  before  him ;  for  by  that  time  sus- 
picion would  arise  as  to  the  long  time  elapsed,  and  suspicion  once 
excited,  they  would  break  open  the  two  doors,  and  release  the  burgo- 
master and  the  prophet. 

"  My  children,"  said  Dagobert,  entering  abruptly  in  the  room  of 
the  two  little  maidens,  who  had  been  aghast  at  the  noise  they  had 
heard  for  the  last  few  minutes ;  "  now  is  the  moment  to  prove  whether 
or  not  a  soldier's  blood  is  in  your  veins." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  Dagobert!  what  has  happened?"  exclaimed  Blanche. 

"  What  would  you  desire  us  to  do  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

Without  replying,  the  soldier  ran  to  the  bed,  took  off  the  sheets, 
tied  them  together,  made  a  large  knot  at  each  end,  which  he  placed  at 
the  upper  part  of  the  shutter,  first  opened  and  then  closed.  Fastened 
inside  by  the  knot,  which  could  not  slip  through  the  space  between 
the  shutter  and  the  jamb  of  the  window,  the  sheet  was  securely  fast- 
ened, whilst  the  other  end  dropping  outside  reached  the  ground ;  the 
t  other  half  of  the  window  being  opened,  left  a  sufficient  space  for  the 
escape  of  the  fugitives. 

The  veteran  then  took  his  bag,  the  children's  portmanteau,  the 
rein-deer  skin  pelisse,  and  threw  them  all  out  of  the  window,  and  then 
made  a  sign  to  Kill-joy  to  jump  out  and  take  care  of  the  tilings.  The 
dog  obeyed  in  an  instant. 

Rose  and  Blanche  were  amazed,  and  looked  at  Dagobert  without 
saying  a  syllable. 

"  Now,  my  darlings,"  he  said,  "  the  doors  of  the  inn  are  closed. 
Courage  !"  and  pointing  to  the  window,  "we  must  get  out  by  this  way, 
or  we  shall  be  arrested  and  cast  into  prison — you  on  one  side  and  I  on 
the  other,  and  our  journey  is  ended." 

"  Arre&ted  ! — cast  into  prison  I "  exclaimed  Rose. 

"  Separated  from  you  ?  "  cried  Blanche. 

"  Yes,  my  dears !  They  have  killed  Jovial :  we  must  escape  on 
foot,  and  try  to  reach  Leipsic.  When  you  are  tired,  I  will  carry  you 
in  turns ;  and,  if  we  beg  every  inch  of  our  way,  we  will  reach  our 
journey's  end ;  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  delay,  and  all  is  lost !  So 
now,  dears,  trust  in  me.  Let  us  see  that  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon  are  no  cowards,  and  we  have  still  hope  to  lead  us  on." 

The  sisters  took  each  other's  hand  by  mutual  sympathy,  as  if  to 
unite  against  the  common  danger  ;  their  lovely  faces,  pale  with  emotion, 
yet  expressed  a  simple  firmness,  which  arose  from  their  unbounded 
confidence  in  the  old  soldier. 

"  Be  assured,  Dagobert  —  do  not  fear  for  us,"  said  Rose,  in  a 
resolute  tone. 

"  We  will  do  what  we  ought  to  do,"  added  Blanche,  in  a  voice  no 
less  firm. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,"  said  Dagobert;  "  good  blood  will  always  shew 
itself.  Forward  !  You  are  not  heavier  than  feathers,  the  sheets  are 


04  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

strong,  and  it  is  hardly  eight  feet  from  the  window  to  the  ground. 
Kill-joy  is  waiting  for  you." 

"  I  will  go  first — I  am  eldest  to-day,"  said  Rose,  kissing  Blanche 
affectionately ;  and  she  hastened  to  the  window,  determined,  if  there 
were  any  peril,  to  essay  it  before  her  sister. 

Dagobert  easily  guessed  the  motive  of  her  conduct,  and  said, 

"  My  children,  I  understand  you ;  but  do  not  fear,  there  is  no 
danger ;  I  tied  the  sheets  securely.  Now,  there,  my  little  Rose-bud." 

Light  as  a  bird,  the  young  maiden  jumped  on  the  window-sill  ; 
then,  aided  by  Dagobert,  she  seized  the  sheet  and  slid  gently  down 
under  the  soldier's  advice,  who,  leaning  out  of  window,  encouraged  her 
with  his  voice. 

"  Sister,  dear,  do  not  have  any  fear,"  said  the  young  girl,  in  a  low 
voice,  when  she  touched  the  ground ;  "  it  is  very  easy  to  come  down 
so,  and  Kill-joy  is  liking  my  hand." 

Blanche  did  not  delay  in  descending  as  speedily  and  with  courage 
equal  to  her  sister. 

"  Dear  little  things  1  what  have  they  done  to  have  such  misfor- 
tunes? Mille  tonnerres  !  Is  there,  then,  an  evil  spell  over  the  family  ?" 
exclaimed  Dagobert,  in  his  grief,  when  he  saw  the  pale  and  resigned 
countenance  of  the  young  child  disappear  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
rendered  still  more  painful  by  the  gusts  of  wind  and  torrents  of  rain. 

"  Dagobert,  we  are  waiting  for  you :  come  quickly,"  said  the  two 
girls  under  the  window.  Thanks  to  his  height,  the  soldier  leaped 
rather  than  slid  from  the  window  to  the  ground. 

Dagobert  and  the  two  girls  had  hardly  left  the  White  Falcon  inn 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  a  violent  burst  resounded  through  the 
house. 

The  door  had  yielded  to  the  efforts  of  the  burgomaster  and  Morok, 
who  had  used  a  heavy  table  for  a  battering-ram. 

Guided  by  the  light  they  ran  into  the  room  of  the  orphans.  It  was 
deserted. 

Morok  saw  the  sheets  hanging  outside,  and  cried  out, — 

"  M.  le  Bourgmestre,  by  this  window  they  have  escaped — they  are 
on  foot — the  night  is  dark  and  storm v,  and  they  cannot  have  fled 
far." 

"  Certainly  not.  We  shall  overtake  them.  Miserable  vagabonds ! 
Oh,  I'll  be  revenged  !  Quick,  Morok  !  Your  honour  is  as  much  con- 
cerned as  mine." 

"  My  honour  ?  More  than  that  is  concerned,  M.  le  Bourgmestre," 
replied  the  prophet,  in  a  tone  of  bitterness.  He  then  descended  the 
staircase  rapidly,  and,  opening  the  door  of  the  court-yard,  cried  with  a 
resounding  voice, — 

"  Goliath,  unchain  the  dogs !  And  you,  landlord,  bring  lanterns 
and  torches!  Arm  your  people,  open  your  doors!  Run  after  the 
fugitives,  they  must  not  escape.  We  must  take  them,  dead  or  alive  !" 


END  OV  THE  FIRST  PART. 


1HK     ESCAPE 

.".    M 


iimilon:    ni.»t«iinii  ami  Hall.      .ful> 


PART    II. 

THE  STREET  OF  THE  MILIEU-DES-URSINS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   INFORMATIONS. 

IN  reading  the  rules  of  the  order  of  Jesuits,  under  the  title  of  De 
Formuld  Scribendi  (Instit.  2,  11,  pp.  125-129),  the  developement  of 
the  eighth  part  of  the  Constitution,  we  are  amazed  at  the  number  of 
letters,  informations,  revelations,  registers,  and  writings  of  every  kind, 
preserved  in  the  archives  of  the  society. 

This  body  is  a  police,  more  exact  and  better  informed  than  was 
ever  found  in  any  state.  The  government  of  Venice  itself  found  that 
it  was  surpassed  by  the  Jesuits,  when,  in  1606,  it  laid  hands  on  their 
papers  and  drove  them  out  of  the  city,  reproaching  them  for  their  IN- 
TENSE AND  PAINFUL  CURIOSITY.  This  police,  this  secret  inquisition, 
carried  to  such  a  pitch  of  perfection,  evince  all  the  power  of  a  govern- 
ment ao  fully  informed,  so  persevering  in  its  plans,  so  powerful  in  its 
unity,  and,  as  their  Constitutions  express  it,  the  union  of  its  members. 
It  may  be  easily  understood  what  immense  power  the  government  of 
a  society  thus  constructed  must  acquire,  and  how  the  general  of  the 
Jesuits  was  justified  in  saying  to  the  Duke  de  Brissac,  "  FBOM  THIS 
BOOM,  SIB,  I  GOVERN  NOT  ONLY  PARIS  BUT  CHINA;  NOT  ONLY 
CHINA,  BUT  THE  WHOLE  WORLD,  WITHOUT  ANY  ONE  UNDEBSTAND- 

1NG    THE    MANNER    IN    WHICH    I    DO    IT." TJl£  Constitutions    of  the 

Jesuits,  with  the  Declarations :  Latin  text,  from  the  Prague  edition, 
pp.  470-478.     Paulin,  Paris,  1843. 

Morok,  the  beast-tamer,  seeing  Dagobert  deprived  of  his  horse, 
robbed  of  his  papers  and  his  money,  and  believing  him  also  deprived 
of  any  and  every  means  of  continuing  his  journey,  had,  before  the 
arrival  of  the  burgomaster,  despatched  Karl  to  Leipsic  with  a  letter, 
which  he  was  instantly  to  put  in  the  post, 

The  address  of  the  letter  was  as  follows  :—- 

"  To  Monsieur  Rodin, 

Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ursins, 

A  Paris." 

About  the  middle  of  this  solitary  and  little-known  street,  which  is 
just  above  the  Quai  Napoleon,  to  which  it  leads,  and  not  far  from  the 


96  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Rue  Saint  Landry,  there  was  a  house  of  quiet  appearance,  built  at  the 
extremity  of  a  dull  and  narrow  court-yard,  isolated  from  the  street  by 
a  small  facade,  in  which  was  an  arched  door,  and  two  windows,  pro- 
tected by  strong  bars  of  iron. 

Nothing  could  be  more  unpretending  than  the  interior  of  this 
silent  abode,  judging  from  the  furniture  of  a  large  room  on  the  ground 
floor  of  the  principal  part  of  the  building.  Old  gray  panels  covered 
the  walls,  the  floor  was  of  square  blocks,  painted  red  and  carefully 
polished,  and  white  calico  curtains  hung  in  front  of  the  window-panes. 

A  globe,  four  feet  in  diameter,  placed  on  a  pedestal  of  solid  oak, 
was  at  the  further  end  of  the  apartment,  facing  the  fire-place. 

On  this  sphere,  which  was  on  a  large  scale,  there  were  a  vast 
quantity  of  small  red  crosses,  scattered  over  all  parts  of  the  world, 
from  north  to  south,  from  east  to  west ;  from  the  most  barbarous 
countries,  the  most  remote  islands,  to  the  most  civilised  countries — 
even  to  France :  there  was  no  nation  which  did  not  bear,  in  many 
places,  more  or  less  of  these  small  red  crosses,  which  evidently  served 
as  signs  of  indication  or  as  points  of  reference. 

Before  a  table  of  ebony  covered  with  papers,  and  close  against  the 
wall,  by  the  chimney  side,  was  an  empty  chair ;  at  a  distance,  between 
two  windows,  was  a  large  walnut-tree  bureau,  with  shelves  filled  with 
large  memorandum -cases. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  October,  1831,  about  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  there  was  a  man  seated  at  this  bureau,  who  was  busily 
writing. 

It  was  M.  Rodin,  the  correspondent  of  Morok  the  beast-tamer. 

Fifty  years  of  age,  he  wore  an  old,  threadbare,  olive-coloured, 
long-tailed  coat,  with  a  greasy  collar ;  a  pocket-handkerchief  was  his 
cravat,  with  waistcoat  and  trowsers  of  black  cloth,  worn  white  at  the 
seams  and  knees ;  whilst  his  feet  plunged  in  shoes  of  oiled  leather, 
rested  on  a  small  green-baize  stool,  which  was  on  the  red  and  shining 
floor.  His  gray  hairs  fell  limp  and  flat  on  his  temples,  and  crowned 
his  bald  forehead;  his  eyebrows  were  scarcely  marked;  his  upper 
eyelid  shrivelled,  but  falling  low,  like  the  membrane  of  a  reptile's  eye, 
half-concealed  his  small  and  sharp  black  eye ;  his  lips,  thin  and  abso- 
lutely colourless,  were  lost  in  the  wan  hue  of  his  lank  visage,  his 
peaked  nose,  and  peaked  chin.  This  livid  and  (it  might  almost  be 
said)  lipless  mask  seemed  the  more  strange  from  its  death-like  in- 
animation, and  but  for  the  rapid  motion  of  M.  Rodin's  fingers  as  he 
stooped  over  his  bureau,  and  his  pen  scratched  along,  he  might  have 
been  taken  for  a  corpse. 

By  the  aid  of  a  cipher  (a  secret  alphabet)  placed  before  him,  he 
was  transcribing,  in  a  manner  unintelligible  to  all  but  the  initiated, 
certain  passages  from  a  long  scroll  of  writing. 

In  the  midst  of  this  perfect  silence,  in  a  dull,  dark  day,  which  made 
even  more  gloomy  this  large  and  naked  room,  there  was  something  re- 
pulsive in  the  sight  of  this  frozen  figure  writing  mysterious  characters. 

The  clock  struck  eight. 

The  knocker  of  the  outer  gate  sounded  heavily,  then  a  bell  tinkled 
twice.  Several  doors  opened  and  shut,  and  another  individual  entered 
the  room. 

When  he  saw  him,  M.  Rodin  rose,  put  his  pen  between  his  teeth, 


THE  INFORMATIONS.  07 

and,  having  saluted  him  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  humility,  resumed 
his  labour  without  a  word. 

These  two  personages  presented  a  striking  contrast. 

The  new-comer,  older  than  he  seemed,  appeared  thirty-six  or 
thirty-eight  years  of  age,  of  tall  and  elegant  proportions;  it  was  difficult 
to  sustain  the  brilliant  glance  of  his  large  and  sparkling  gray  eyes  ;  his 
nose,  large.at  the  base,  terminated  with  an  expansive  curve;  his  chin 
was  well  defined,  and,  being  closely  shaven,  the  blue  tints  of  his  beard 
contrasted  broadly  with  the  vivid  scarlet  of  his  lips,  and  the  whiteness 
of  his  teeth,  which  were  exquisite  in  form  and  colour.  When  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  put  on  a  black  velvet  cap,  which  was  lying  on  the  table, 
he  exposed  his  bright  and  full  chestnut  locks,  which  time  had  hitherto 
left  without  one  gray  hair.  He  was  attired  in  a  long  military  frock- 
coat,  buttoned  closely  up  to  his  chin. 

The  penetrating  look  of  this  man,  his  largely  developed  forehead, 
revealed  a  powerful  mind,  whilst  the  expansion  of  his  chest  and  shoulders 
betokened  a  vigorous  physical  construction.  His  distinguished  appear- 
ance, the  care  evidently  bestowed  upon  his  gloves  and  boots,  the  light 
perfume  which  came  from  his  hair  and  linen,  and  the  easy  grace  of  his 
slightest  gesture,  betrayed  what  is  called  "  a  man  of  the  world,"  and 
implied  that  he  had  had,  and  might  still  have,  if  he  pleased,  success  in 
all  he  aimed  at,  from  the  most  frivolous  toying  to  the  most  serious 
pursuit. 

From  this  strength  of  understanding,  power  of  limb,  and  elegance 
of  manners  —  an  union  so  rare  to  meet  withal  —  there  resulted  a  com- 
bination the  more  remarkable,  inasmuch  as  the  appearance  of  arbitrary 
sway  which  exhibited  itself  in  the  upper  part  of  his  energetic  features 
was,  in  a  manner,  tempered  by  the  affability  of  his  smile,  habitual  but 
not  uniform ;  for,  as  occasion  claimed  it,  this  smile,  by  turns  affec- 
tionate or  shrewd,  cordial  or  gay,  discreet  or  open,  increased  the 
insinuating  charm  of  a  man  who,  once  seen,  could  never  be  forgotten. 

However,  in  spite  of  the  conjunction  of  so  many  advantages,  and 
although  you  were  almost  always  left  under  the  influence  of  his  irre- 
sistible demeanour,  your  feelings  would  be  mingled  with  a  vague  dis- 
quiet, as  if  the  grace  and  exquisite  urbanity  of  this  individual's  man- 
ners, the  enchantment  of  his  discourse,  his  delicate  flattery,  and  the 
soothing  softness  of  his  smile,  concealed  an  under-current  of  insidious 
treachery. 

You  would  ask  yourself,  even  whilst  subdued  by  an  involuntary 

sympathy,  if  he  were  leading  you  to  good  or  evil ! 

****•» 

M.  Rodin,  the  stranger's  secretary,  continued  to  write. 

"  Are  there  any  letters  from  Dunkirk,  Rodin  ?  "  asked  his  master. 

"  The  postman  has  not  yet  been." 

"Without  being  positively  distressed  about  the  state  of  my  mother's 
health,  for  I  was  informed  of  her  entire  convalescence,"  replied  the 
other,  "  I  shall  not  feel  perfectly  easy  until  I  have  a  letter  from  my 
excellent  friend  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizicr.  I  hope  this  morning 
will  bring  me  good  news." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  secretary,  in  a  tone  as  humble  and  dependent 
as  it  was  laconic  and  unmoved. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  desirous,"  resumed  his  employer ;  "  for  one  of  the 

7  H 


98  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

happiest  moments  of  my  lite  was  that  in  which  the  Princess  de  Saint- 
Dizier  informed  me  that  her  malady,  which  was  as  sudden  as  it  was 
dangerous,  had  most  propitiously  yielded  to  the  careful  attentions  with 
which  my  mother  was  nursed  by  her ;  but  for  this,  I  should  instantly 
have  set  out  for  the  princess's  estate,  notwithstanding  my  presence  here 
is  so  very  requisite." 

Then  approaching  the  bureau  of  his  secretary,  he  added, — 

"  Have  you  made  the  extracts  from  the  foreign  correspondence  ?" 

"  Here  is  the  analysis." 

"  All  letters  come  addressed  to  the  particular  places  designated,  and 
brought  according  to  my  orders  ?" 

"  Always." 

"  Read  me  the  analysis  of  this  correspondence  ;  and  if  there  be  any 
letters  to  which  I  ought  to  reply  in  my  own  hand,  I  will  let  you 
know." 

Rodin's  master  then  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his 
hands  folded  behind  his  back,  dictating,  from  time  to  time,  remarks 
which  Rodin  carefully  noted  down. 

The  secretary  took  a  thick  volume,  and  began  thus  : — 

"  Don  Ramon  Olivares,  accused  at  Cadiz  of  the  receipt  of  the 
letter,  No.  19,  will  conform  to  its  instructions  in  every  particular,  and 
will  deny  all  participation  in  the  affair." 

"  Good :  enter  it  in  the  right  list." 

"  Count  Romanof,  of  Riga,  is  in  a  most  embarrassing  dilemma." 

"  Tell  Duplessis  to  gend  him  fifty  louis  d'or.  I  was  once  captain 
in  the  count's  regiment,  and  he  has  since  supplied  us  with  most  useful 
information." 

"  They  have  received  at  Philadelphia  the  last  cargoes  of  the 
'  History  of  France  expurgated  for  the  use  of  the  Faithful.'  They 
require  another  supply,  as  that  is  exhausted." 

"  Make  a  note  to  write  to  Duplessis.     Go  on." 

"  M.  Spindler  sends  from  Namur  the  secret  report  requested,  con- 
cerning M.  Ardouin." 

"  That  must  be  analysed." 

"  M.  Ardouin  sends,  from  the  same  city,  the  secret  report  re- 
quested, concerning  M.  Spindler." 

"  That,  too,  must  be  analysed." 

"  Doctor  Van-Ostadt,  of  the  same  city,  sends  a  confidential  note 
concerning  both  M.  Spindler  and  M.  Ardouin." 

"  They  must  be  duly  compared.     Continue." 

"  The  Count  Malipierri,  of  Turin,  announces  that  the  donation  of 
the  300,000  francs  is  signed." 

"  Inform  Duplessis.     Well " 

"  Don  Stanislas  has  quitted  the  Baden  waters  with  the  Queen 
Marie-Ernestine.  He  states  that  the  queen  will  gratefully  receive 
any  information  sent  to  her,  and  reply  to  it  in  person." 

"  Make  a  note  of  this.     I  will  write  myself  to  the  queen." 

Whilst  Rodin  was  making  several  notes  in  the  margin  of  the  book 
he  held  in  his  hand,  his  master,  who  continued  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room,  paused  before  the  large  sphere  marked  with  the  small  red 
crosses,  and  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment,  thoughtfully. 

Rodin  continued : — 


THE  INFORMATIONS.  99 

"  From  the  state  of  mind  in  certain  parts  of  Italy,  where  certain 
agitators  have  turned  their  eyes  towards  France,  Father  Orsini 
writes  from  Milan  that  it  would  be  very  important  to  diffuse,  in  large 
numbers,  a  small  book  in  which  our  countrymen,  the  French,  should 
be  described  as  impious  and  debauched,  robbers  and  cut-throats." 

"  It  is  an  excellent  idea,  and  we  could  thus  easily  account  for  the 
excesses  committed  by  our  troops  in  Italy  during  the  wars  of  the 
Republic.  Jacques  Dumoulin  must  be  employed  to  write  this  book — 
that  man  overflows  with  bile,  gall,  and  venom  !  His  pamphlet  will  be 
tremendous  ;  and  I  can  furnish  him  with  some  notes.  But  mind, 
Jacques  Dumoulin  must  not  be  paid  until  the  manuscript  is  complete 
and  delivered  into  our  own  hands." 

"  Of  course.  If  he  had  any  money  down,  he  would  be  blind 
drunk  for  eight  days  together  in  some  disreputable  house  or  other. 
We  were  obliged  to  pay  him  twice  for  his  virulent  letter  against  the 
pantheistical  tendencies  of  the  philosophical  doctrines  of  Professor 
Martin." 

"  Make  your  memorandum,  and  go  on." 

"  The  merchant  announces  that  the  clerk  is  on  the  point  of  sending 
the  banker  to  his  accounts  before  the  time,  when  — 

Having  accented  the  words  we  print  in  italics  in  a  peculiar  way, 
Rodin  added, — 

"  You  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  said  the  other,  with  a  start ;  "  these  were  the  ex- 
pressions agreed  upon.  Well,  what  then  ?" 

"  But  the  clerk"  added  the  secretary,  "  is  restrained  by  a  last 
scruple." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  his  features  were  painfully 
contracted,  Rodin's  master  replied, — 

"  Give  instructions  to  work  on  the  clerks  imagination  by  silence 
and  solitude,  and  then  place  in  his  hands  the  list  of  instances  in  which 
regicide  is  authorised  and  absolved.  Continue." 

"  The  woman  Sydney  writes  from  Dresden  that  she  awaits  in- 
structions. Violent  scenes  of  jealousy  have  occurred  between  the 
father  and  son  about  her ;  but  in  their  mutual  reproaches  and  hatred, 
in  the  confidences  which  each  has  made  to  her  of  his  rival,  the  woman 
Sydney  has  not  gleaned  any  thing  on  the  subject  we  desire  to  fathom  ; 
she  has  not  as  yet  shewn  preference  for  either,  but  if  she  delays, 
she  fears  they  may  suspect:  which  is  she  to  prefer — the  father  or 
the  son  ?" 

"  The  son! — the  workings  of  jealousy  would  be  more  violent  and 
deadly  in  the  old  man  than  in  the  young ;  and,  to  revenge  himself  for 
the  preference  bestowed  on  his  son,  he  might  very  probably  reveal 
what  both  have  so  great  an  interest  in  concealing.  What  next  ?  " 

"  In  the  last  three  years,  two  female  servants  belonging  to  Am- 
brosius,  who  was  placed  as  pastor  in  that  small  parish  among  the 
mountains  of  the  Valois,  have  disappeared,  without  the  least  trace 
having  been  obtained  of  their  fate  ;  a  third  has  recently  been  missing. 
The  Protestant  inhabitants  of  the  country  are  excited  ;  they  speak 
openly  of  murder  having  been  committed,  and  call  it  a  horrible  affair 
requiring  immediate  investigation." 

"  Until  the  most  positive  evidence  of  bis  guilt  i*  obtained,  the 


100  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

most  unquestionable  proof  of  a  murder  having  been  committed,  let 
Ambrosius  be  strongly  supported  and  defended  against  the  infamous 
falsehoods  of  a  party  that  would  go  any  lengths  to  support  their 
malignant  scandals.  Continue." 

"  Thompson,  of  Liverpool,  has  at  length  succeeded  in  securing  a 
confidential  employment  for  Justin,  in  the  family  of  Lord  Stewart,  a 
rich  Irish  Catholic,  whose  mental  weakness  daily  increases.  Justin  is 
engaged  as  private  secretary." 

"  Fifty  louis  for  Thompson  upon  the  above  information  being  duly 
and  satisfactorily  verified.  Make  a  note  for  Duplessis.  Go  on." 

"  Frank  Dichestein,  of  Vienna,"  resumed  Rodin,  "  informs  us  that 
his  father  has  just  died  of  cholera,  in  a  little  village  a  few  leagues  from 
hence,  for  the  epidemic  is  advancing  with  slow  but  sure  strides,  pro- 
ceeding froMi  the  north  of  Russia  through  Poland." 

"  True,"  answered  Rodin's  superior,  interrupting  him ;  "  may  this 
frightful  scourge  be  arrested  ere  it  reach  France ! " 

"  Frank  Dichestein  proceeds  to  say,  that  his  two  brothers  have 
resolved  to  contest  the  legacy  left  by  his  father,  but  that  he  is  well 
disposed  to  allow  it." 

"  Consult  those  charged  with  the  bequest.    What  have  you  next?" 

"  The  Cardinal  Prince  d'Amalfi  will  conform  to  the  three  first 
points  of  the  memorial ;  but  he  will  only  accede  to  the  fourth  upon 
certain  reservations." 

"  None  will  be  permitted  ;  a  full  and  unqualified  acceptation,  or 
war.  War! — mark  me  well,  and  take  a  note  of  what  I  say — bloody 
and  unsparing,  either  of  himself  or  his  creatures  !  The  next." 

"  Father  Paoli  announces  that  the  patriot  Boccari,  head  of  a  secret 
and  formidable  society,  driven  to  despair  of  being  (in  consequence  of 
the  adroit  insinuations  infused  by  Paoli  in  the  minds  of  his  associates) 
accused  by  his  friends  and  companions  of  treacherous  designs  against 
their  common  interests,  has  perished  by  his  own  hand." 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  "  exclaimed  Rodin's  employer.  "  Boccari !— ^ 
the  patriot  Boccari! — that  redoubtable  and  dangerous  enemy  !" 

"  Himself,"  repeated  the  still  immovable  secretary. 

"  Bid  Duplessis  send  an  order  for  twenty -five  louis  to  Father 
Paoli.  Make  a  note.  Now  proceed." 

"  Hausman  acquaints  us  that  the  French  dancer,  Albertine  Du- 
cornet,  is  established  as  the  acknowledged  mistress  of  the  reigning 
prince,  over  whom  she  exercises  the  most  perfect  influence ;  through 
her  intervention  the  desired  aim  might  be  obtained  :  but  this  individual 
is  in  her  turn  entirely  guided  by  her  lover,  an  individual  now  under 
sentence  for  forgery,  but  without  whose  knowledge  and  concurrence 
she  does  nothing." 

"  Then  desire  Hausman  to  confer  with  this  man,  and  if  he  find 
him  reasonable  in  his  demands,  to  accede  to  them ;  and  also  to  make 
inquiries  as  to  whether  this  woman,  Albertine,  has  not  relations  in 
Paris." 

"  The  Duke  d'Orbano  acquaints  us  that  the  king  his  master  will 
authorise  the  new  establishment  proposed,  but  upon  the  conditions 
previously  stated." 

"  No  conditions  will  be  listened  to ;  either  an  unqualified  com- 
pliance or  a  positive  refusal.  By  such  decided  means  alone  we  shall 


THE  INFORMATIONS.  101 

be  able  to  know  our  friends  from  our  foes;  the  more  unfavourable  the 
circumstances  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  the  greater  need  of  shewing 
firmness  and  self-reliance." 

"  By  the  same  despatch  we  learn  that  the  entire  diplomatic  body 
persist  in  remonstrating  in  favour  of  the  parent  of  the  young  Pro- 
testant girl,  who  refuses  to  quit  the  convent  in  which  she  has  found 
safety  and  protection  unless  to  marry  a  person  her  father  is  wholly 
opposed  to." 

"  Ah  I  the  diplomatic  body  continue  to  support  the  father's 
demand  for  the  restoration  of  his  disobedient  daughter,  do  they  ?" 

"  They  do." 

"  Then  continue  to  reply  to  all  their  petitions  and  memorials  by 
saying  that  the  ecclesiastical  power  cannot  suffer  itself  to  be  drawn 
into  disputes  with  temporal  authority." 

At  this  instant  the  bell  at  the  entrance-door  rang  twice. 

"  Go  see  who  that  is,"  said  Rodin's  master. 

The  former  rose  and  quitted  the  room  while  his  employer  con- 
tinued pensively  to  pace  the  room,  until  his  attention  being  attracted 
by  the  enormous  globe  he  suddenly  stopped,  and  for  several  minutes 
continued  to  gaze  in  silence  on  the  innumerable  little  red  crosses, 
which,  like  the  meshes  of  an  immense  net,  appeared  to  cover  the  whole 
surface  of  the  earth. 

Doubtless  impressed  with  the  consciousness  of  his  wide-extended 
power,  from  the  influence  of  which  no  quarter  of  the  universe  seemed 
free,  the  features  of  the  man  we  are  describing  were  suddenly 
lighted  up  with  an  expression  of  haughty  complacency  and  self-gratu- 
lation ;  his  large  gray  eye  glittered,  his  nostril  expanded,  and  his 
strongly  marked  features  assumed  an  indescribable  look  of  energy* 
determination,  and  pride. 

With  lofty  mien  and  half-disdainful  smile  he  bent  over  the  sphere 
and  grasped  the  pole  in  his  strong  hand,  looking  on  it  with  the 
proud  air  of  a  conqueror  who  felt  assured  of  obtaining  the  universal 
dominion  he  coveted ;  and  well  did  that  eager,  absolute,  and  audacious 
grasp  accord  with  the  fierce,  imperious  look  of  the  eye,  fixed  on  it 
with  so  intense  agaze,  as  though  already  wielding  the  universal  sceptre 
his  desires  aimed  at  obtaining.  Yet  no  smile  illumined  his  counte- 
nance ;  deep  frowns  contracted  his  large  forehead  and  imparted  a 
menacing  air  to  his  whole  features.  An  artist  would  have  chosen 
him,  as  he  then  stood,  as  a  model  of  the  demon  of  pride  and  auda- 
city, the  evil  genius  of  insatiable  power.  Nor  could  he  have  embodied 
his  ideas  under  a  more  fearful  personification. 

Ere  Rodin  returned  to  the  room  the  features  of  his  master  had 
resumed  their  natural  expression. 

"  'Twas  the  postman,"  said  Rodin,  exhibiting  the  letters  he  carried 
in  his  hand.  "  There  is  nothing,  however,  from  Dunkirk." 

"Nothing I"  exclaimed  his  master;  and  the  pained  look  of  his 
countenance  contrasted  deeply  and  singularly  with  the  haughty  and 
unbending  expression  it  so  lately  wore. 

"  No  news  of  my  mother  !"  resumed  he  ;  "  yet  six-and-thirty  hours 
more  of  uncertainty  and  suspense  1" 

"  Yet  had  Madame  la  Princesse  had  bad  news  to  communicate,  she 


102  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

would  surely  have  written.  Let  us  hope,  therefore,  that  things  con- 
tinue to  go  on  favourably." 

"  Probably,  Rodin,  it  may  be  as  you  say ;  but,  I  know  not  why, 
I  cannot  tranquillise  myself,  and  if  to-morrow  does  not  bring  me  the 
most  satisfactory  intelligence  I  shall  certainly  set  off  at  once  to  the 
princess.  Oh  I  why  would  my  mother  so  positively  choose  to  pass 
the  autumn  in  that  place  I  I  fear  much  the  situation  of  Dunkirk  is 
decidedly  unfavourable  to  her." 

After  a  brief  silence,  during  which  he  still  continued  to  pace  the 
room,  he  added, — 

"  Let  me  see  those  letters." 

Rodin,  having  examined  their  various  postmarks,  replied, — 

"  Among  the  four  I  hold,  are  three  relative  to  the  great  and  im- 
portant affair  of  the  medals." 

"  Then  Heaven  be  praised  for  so  much  that  is  good  to  hear  I"  ex- 
claimed Rodin's  master.  "  Let  us  hope  the  accounts  are  favourable." 
And  this  was  said  in  a  tone  and  manner  that  clearly  evinced  the 
extreme  uneasiness  and  anxiety  entertained  respecting  the  matter. 

"  One  is  from  Cliarlestown,  and  is,  no  doubt,  from  the  missionary 
Gabriel,"  rejoined  Rodin.  "The  other,  from  Batavia,  comes  pro- 
bably from  the  Indian  Djalma.  This  is  from  Leipsic,  and  is,  I 
expect,  in  confirmation  of  that  of  yesterday,  in  which  Morok,  the 
tamer  of  beasts,  announced  that,  in  pursuance  of  orders  received, 
and  without  in  any  way  involving  himself,  he  had  rendered  it  im- 
possible for  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  to  continue  their 
journey." 

At  the  name  of  General  Simon  a  dark  cloud  passed  over  the 
features  of  Rodin's  master. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ORDERS. 

"  THE  provincial  agencies  correspond  with  that  in  Paris,  and  are 
also  in  direct  communication  with  the  General,  who  resides  at  Rome. 
The  correspondence  of  the  Jesuits,  so  active,  various,  and  so  wonder- 
fully organised,  is  arranged  and  devised  to  supply  the  chiefs  with 
every  information  they  may  require.  Every  day  the  General  receives 
a  mass  of  reports  which  check  each  other.  In  the  central  depot  at 
Rome  there  are  immense  registers,  in  which  are  kept  the  names  of 
all  the  Jesuits,  their  allies,  and  all  persons  of  consequence,  friends  or 
enemies,  with  whom  they  have  connexion  or  business.  In  these  re- 
gisters  are  detailed,  without  alteration,  without  hatred  or  passion,  the 
facts  relative  to  the  life  of  each  individual.  It  is  the  most  gigantic 
biographical  collection  ever  formed.  The  conduct  of  a  woman  of 
light  character,  and  the  concealed  faults  of  a  statesman,  are  recapitu- 


RODIN. 
P.  IU3. 


London:  Cha|>niiin  and  Mall.     March  I,  I-4.V 


ORDERS.  103 

lated  in  this  book  with  calm  impartiality.  Abridged  for  an  useful 
purpose,  these  biographies  are  necessarily  precise.  When  it  is  requi- 
site to  act  upon  or  against  a  certain  individual,  the  book  is  opened,  and 
instantly  his  life,  character,  qualities,  defects,  projects,  family,  friends, 
and  most  secret  connexions,  are  known.  Imagine,  now,  what  immense 
control,  what  a  sphere  of  action,  a  book  like  this,  which  includes  the 
entire  world,  must  give  to  a  society  !  I  do  not  speak  lightly  of  these 
registers — I  have  the  fact  from  one  who  has  seen  the  collection,  and 
who  knows  the  Jesuits  thoroughly.  This  must  afford  matter  for  reflec- 
tion for  families  who  admit  with  facility  into  their  domestic  circle 
members  of  a  community  by  whom  the  study  of  biography  is  so  skilfully 
carried  out." — LIBRI,  member  of  the  Institute:  Letters  on  the  Clergy. 

After  having  overcome  the  involuntary  emotion  which  the  name  or 
the  recollection  of  General  Simon  had  caused  him,  Rodin's  master 
said, — 

"  Do  not  open  these  letters  from  Leipsic,  Charlestown,  and  Batavia ; 
the  information  they  contain  will  doubtless  classify  itself  forthwith. 
That  will  spare  us  a  double  employment  of  time." 

The  secretary  looked  at  his  master  with  an  inquiring  air. 

The  other  continued, — 

"  Have  you  finished  the  note  in  reference  to  the  medals  ?" 

"  Here  it  is ;  I  have  just  finished  it  from  the  ciphers." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  and  according  to  the  order  of  dates,  and  adding 
the  fresh  informations  which  tjjese  three  letters  ought  to  contain." 

"  By  which,"  said  Rodin,  "  these  informations  will  duly  fall  into 
their  right  places." 

"  I  wish  to  see,"  added  the  other,  "  if  this  note  be  clear  and  suffi- 
ciently full ;  for  you  have  not  forgotten  that  the  person  to  whom  it  is 
addressed  does  not  know  the  full  purpose  of  it?" 

"  That  I  fully  understand,  and  have  drawn  it  up  accordingly." 

«  Read." 

M.  Rodin  read  what  follows,  very  carefully  and  slowly : — 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty  years  since,  a  French  Protestant  family 
voluntarily  expatriated  itself  in  anticipation  of  the  coming  revocation 
of  the  edict  of  JJantes,  and  with  the  intention  of  escaping  the  severe 
and  just  arrests  already  issued  against  the  Reformers,  those  savage 
enemies  of  our  holy  religion. 

"  Amongst  the  members  of  this  family,  some  took  refuge  first  in 
Holland,  then  in  the  Dutch  colonies ;  others  in  Poland,  others  in 
Germany,  others  in  England,  and  some  in  America. 

"  It  is  believed  that  at  this  time  there  are  only  seven  surviving 
descendants  of  this  family,  which  has  experienced  remarkable  vicis- 
situdes of  fortune,  since  its  representatives  are  now  placed  on  every 
step  of  the  ladder  of  society,  from  the  monarch  to  the  mechanic. 

"  These  direct  or  indirect  descendants  are, — 

"  By  the  Mothers  side  :  — 

"  The  demoiselles  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon,  minors. 
"  (General  Simon  married,  at  Warsaw,  a  female  descendant  of  the 
said  family.) 

"  The  sieur  Francois  Hardy,  a  manufacturer  at  Plessis,  near  Paris. 


104  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  The  Prince  Djalma,  son  of  Kadja-Sing,  king  of  Mondi. 
"  (Kadja-Sing  married,  in  1802,  a  female  descendant  of  the  said 
family,  then  settled  at  Batavia,  Isle  of  Java,  a  Dutch  settlement.) 

"  By  tlie  Father's  side  : — 

"  The  sieur  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout-nud,  a  mechanic. 

"  The  demoiselle  Adriennc  de  Cardoville,  daughter  of  the  Count 
de  Rennepont,  duke  de  Cardoville. 

"  The  sieur  Gabriel  flennepont,  a  missionary  in  foreign  parts. 

"  Each  of  the  members  of  this  family  possesses,  or  ought  to  possess, 
a  bronze  medal,  on  which  is  engraved  the  following  inscription : — 


Victime 

de 

L.C.D.J. 
Priez  pour  moi. 


13th  February,  1682. 


A  Paris, 

Rue  St.  Franfois,  No.  3, 
In  a  century  and  a  half 
you  will  be 


the  13th  February,  1832. 
Paris, 


Pray  for  me 


"  These  words  and  this  date  indicate  that  there  is  some  powerful 
reason  why  all  of  them  should  be  in  Paris  on  the  13th  of  February, 
1832,  and  that  not  by  proxies  or  by  attorney,  but  IN  PERSON,  whether 
of  age  or  under  age,  married  or  single. 

"  But  other  persons  have  an  immense  interest  in  preventing  any 
one  of  the  descendants  of  this  family  from  being  in  Paris  on  the  13th 
of  February,  except  Gabriel  Rennepont,  the  foreign  missionary. 

"  At  all  hazards,  therefore,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  Gabriel 
alone  be  present  at  this  interview,  appointed  for  the  representatives  of 
this  family  a  century  and  a  half  ago. 

"  To  prevent  the  six  other  persons  from  being  in,  or  coming  to,  Paris 
on  that  particular  day,  or  to  prevent  their  attendance  at  the  appoint- 
ment named,  much  has  already  been  done;  but  a  great  deal  more 
must  be  yet  accomplished  to  ensure  the  entire  success  of  this  object, 
which  is  considered  as  the  most  important  and  vital  affair  of  this  time, 
because  of  its  probable  results." 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  Rodin's  employer,  interrupting  him,  and 
shaking  his  head  gravely  ;  "  add,  moreover,  that  the  consequences  of 
success  are  incalculable,  whilst  the  fatal  results  of  failure  cannot  be 
anticipated.  But,  in  a  word,  it  involves  the  very  fact  of  existence  or 
virtual  death  for  many  years  to  come.  Thus,  to  succeed,  all  means 
possible  must  be  resorted  to,  and  nothing  allowed  to  impede  the  progress 
to  perfect  completion  ;  whilst,  at  the  same  time,  appearances  must  be 
most  carefully  preserved." 

"  I  have  written  that,"  said  Rodin,  after  he  had  added  the  words 
dictated  to  him. 

"  Continue." 

Rodin  continued  thus : — 

"  To  facilitate  or  ensure  the  success  of  the  affair  in  question,  it  is 
necessary  to  supply  some  particular  and  secret  details,  as  to  those  seven 
representatives  of  this  family.  These  details  can  be  verified,  and 
if  requisite,  given  in  full  minutiae ;  for  cross-informations  having 
been  received,  we  have  the  fullest  particulars.  We  proceed  in  order 
of  the  persons,  and  only  mention  facts  which  have  occurred  up  to 
this  day." 


ORDERS.  105 

(NOTE,  No.  1.) 

"  The  girls  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon  are  twins  ;  age,  about  fifteen ; 
lovely  faces,  so  like  each  other,  that  they  are  mistaken  one  for  the 
other;  disposition,  gentle  and  timid,  but  susceptible  of  strong  im- 
pulses ;  brought  up  in  Siberia  by  their  mother,  a  woman  of  strong 
mind,  and  a  Deist  in  principle,  they  are  completely  ignorant  of  every 
thing  connected  with  our  holy  religion. 

"  General  Simon,  separated  from  his  wife  before  they  were  born, 
does  not  know  to  this  hour  that  he  has  two  daughters. 

"  It  was  believed  that  they  were  prevented  from  reaching  Paris  on 
the  13th  of  February,  by  having  sent  the  mother  to  a  place  of  exile 
more  remote  than  that  to  which  she  was  first  sentenced ;  but  the 
mother  being  dead,  the  governor-general  of  Siberia,  who  is  entirely 
-devoted  to  us,  believing  (by  a  deplorable  error)  that  the  affair  was 
only  a  personal  one,  affecting  solely  the  wife  of  General  Simon,  un- 
fortunately allowed  these  young  girls  to  return  to  France  under  the 
protection  of  an  old  soldier. 

"  This  man,  quick-witted,  faithful,  and  resolute,  is  noted  as  dan- 
gerous. 

"The  demoiselles  Simon  are  inoffensive.  There  is  every  good 
reason  to  believe  that,  at  this  time,  they  are  detained  in  or  near 
Leipsic." 

Rodin's  master,  interrupting  him,  said, — 

"  Now  read  the  letter  received  by  this  post  from.  Leipsic,  which 
should  perfect  the  information." 

Rodin  read,  and  exclaimed — 

"  Capital  news !  the  two  young  girls  and  their  guide  contrived  to 
escape  during  the  night  from  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon,  but  being 
pursued,  they  were  overtaken  a  league  from  Mockern,  sent  on  to 
Leipsic,  and  then  locked  up  in  gaol  as  vagabonds ;  besides  this,  the 
soldier,  who  was  their  conductor,  was  accused  and  convicted  of  resist- 
ance, assault,  and  contempt  of  a  magistrate." 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  pretty  sure,  thanks  to  the  tediousness  of  German 
law  proceedings  (and  we  will  contrive  to  protract  them),  that  the 
young  girls  will  not  be  able  to  be  here  on  the  13th  of  February,"  said 
the  employer  to  Rodin.  "  Add  this  fact  to  the  note  by  a  postscript." 

The  secretary  obeyed,  and  added  to  the  note  the  substance  of 
Morok's  letter,  saying, 

"  I  have  done  that." 

"  Then  continue,"  said  his  master. 

Rodin  complied  thus  :— 

(NOTE,  No.  2.) 
M.  Francois  Hardy,  Manufacturer  at  Plcssis,  near  Paris. 

"  Forty  years  old — a  strong-minded,  rich,  intelligent,  active,  hon- 
ourable, well-informed  man ;  greatly  beloved  by  his  work-people, 
owing  to  the  numerous  improvements  he  has  established  in  their 
favour ;  never  fulfilling  the  duties  of  our  holy  religion  ;  marked  as  a 
very  dangerous  man;  but  the  hatred  and  envy  which  he  excites  in 
other  manufacturers,  particularly  to  M.  le  Baron  Tripeaud,  his  com- 


106  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

petitor,  may  be  easily  fomented,  and  used  against  him.  If  other 
springs  of  action  against  or  upon  him  be  required,  the  book  will  be 
referred  to  :  it  is  very  full  with  respect  to  him,  as  this  individual  has 
long  been  marked,  and  carefully  watched. 

"  He  has  been  so  carefully  misled  with  regard  to  the  medal  that, 
up  to  this  time,  he  is  completely  ijgnorant  of  its  importance  and  the 
interests  which  it  represents;  moreover,  he  is  constantly  watched, 
looked  after,  and  led,  without  the  slightest  suspicion  on  his  part.  One 
of  his  most  intimate  friends  betrays  him,  and  his  most  secret  thoughts 
are  known." 

(NOTE,  No.  3.) 

The  Prince  Djalma. 

"  Eighteen  years  of  age — of  energetic  and  noble  disposition,  proud, 
independent,  and  wild  ;  a  favourite  of  General  Simon,  who  commands 
the  troops  of  his  father  Kadja-Sing,  in  his  struggle  against  the  English 
in  India.  This  account  of  Djalma  is  from  memory  only,  as  his  mother 
died  very  young.  From  the  survivor  of  her  parents,  who  remained 
in  Batavia,  dying  subsequently,  their  small  property  has  not  been 
claimed  by  Djalma,  or  the  king  his  father,  and  it  is  clearly  under- 
stood that  they  are  both  ignorant  of  the  deep  interests  which  apper- 
tain to  the  possession  of  the  medal  in  question,  which  forms  part  of  the 
inheritance  of  Djalma's  mother." 

Rodin's  master  interrupted  him  and  said, — 

"  Now  read  the  letter  from  Batavia,  that  our  information  as  to 
Djalma  may  be  complete." 

Rodin  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  said, — 

"More  good  news!  M.Joshua  Van  Dael,a  merchant  of  Batavia  (edu- 
cated in  our  house  at  Pondicherry),  has  learned  from  his  correspondent 
at  Calcutta  that  the  old  Indian  king  was  killed  iii  his  late  battle  with 
the  English.  His  son  Djalma,  dispossessed  of  his  throne,  was  sent 
temporarily  to  a  fortress  in  India  as  prisoner  of  state." 

"  We  are  at  the  end  of  October,"  observed  the  other,  "  and,  ad- 
mitting that  the  Prince  Djalma  was  set  at  liberty,  and  could  now  quit 
India,  he  could  scarcely  reach  Paris  by  the  month  of  February." 

"  M.  Joshua,"  replied  Rodin,  "  regrets  not  being  able  to  prove  his 
zeal  in  this  case  :  if,  contrary  to  all  probability,  the  Prince  Djalma  has 
been  released,  or  contrives  to  escape,  it  is  certain  that  he  would  come 
instantly  to  Batavia  to  reclaim  his  maternal  inheritance,  as  he  had 
nought  in  the  world  left  beside.  He  might,  in  this  case,  rely  on  the 
devotion  of  M.  Joshua  Von  Dae'l.  He  requests,  in  return,  by  the  next 
courier,  precise  information  as  to  the  fortune  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud, 
manufacturer  and  banker,  with  whom  he  is  connected  in  commercial 
affairs." 

"  Reply  in  an  eyasive  manner,  as  M.  Joshua  has  not  yet  testified 
anything  but  zeal.  Complete  the  information  of  Djalma  with  these 
fresh  particulars." 

Rodin  wrote. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  seconds  his  employer  said,  with  a  singular 
expression, — 

"  M.  Joshua  does  not  mention  General  Simon,  although  he  refers 
to  the  death  of  Djalma's  father,  and  the  prince's  imprisonment." 


ORDEBS.  107 

'«  M.  Joshua  does  not  say  one  word,"  replied  the  secretary,  as  he 
continued  his  writing. 

Rodin's  master  kept  silence,  and  walked  up  and  down  thoughtfully 
in  the  room. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  Rodin  said, — 

"  I  have  written  that." 

"  Continue,  then." 

(NOTE,  No.  4.) 
The  Sieur  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-lout-Nud. 

"  A  workman  in  the  manufactory  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  the  com- 
petitor of  M.  Francois  Hardy.  This  artisan  is  a  drunkard,  indolent, 
extravagant,  riotous — not  deficient  in  understanding,  but  idleness  and 
debauchery  have  utterly  ruined  him.  One  of  our  sub-agents,  a  very 
clever  fellow,  and  much  trusted,  has  got  up  an  intrigue  with  a  girl 
named  Cephyse  Soliveau,  called  the  Queen-Bacchanal.  She  is  the 
mistress  of  this  artisan.  Through  her  our  agent  has  begun  an  inti- 
macy with  him,  and  we  may  look  on  him,  from  this  time,  as  almost 
withdrawn  from  any  interest  which  might  necessitate  his  presence  at 
Paris  on  the  13th  of  February." 

(NOTE,  No.  5.) 
Gabriel  Rennepont,  Foreign  Missionary. 

"  Distant  relation  of  the  preceding,  but  knows  nothing  of  the  relation 
or  the  relationship :  a  forsaken  orphan,  adopted  by  Franchise  Baudoin, 
wife  of  a  soldier  surnamed  Dagobert. 

"  If,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  this  soldier  should  come  to  Paris, 
we  should  have  a  strong  hold  on  him,  through  his  wife,  who  is  a  worthy 
creature,  ignorant,  credulous,  of  exemplary  piety,  and  over  whom  we 
have  long  had  entire  control  and  influence.  It  was  by  her  intervention 
that  Gabriel  was  induced  to  take  orders,  in  spite  of  his  own  repugnance 
to  a  clerical  life. 

"  Gabriel  is  twenty -five  years  of  age,  and  of  a  disposition  as  sweet 
as  his  countenance  ;  he  has  rare  and  solid  virtues.  Unfortunately  he 
was  brought  up  with  his  brother  by  adoption,  Agricola,  the  son  of 
Dagobert.  This  Agricola  is  a  poet  and  a  mechanic — a  capital  \vork- 
ni;iii.  and  employed  at  M.  Francois  Hardy's ;  imbued  with  detestable 
doctrines ;  idolizes  his  mother ;  honest,  hard-working,  but  destitute  of 
all  religious  feeling.  Noted  as  very  dangerous,  which  made  his 
intimacy  with  Gabriel  so  much  to  be  feared. 

"  Gabriel,  in  spite  of  his  perfect  qualities,  sometimes  gives  cause 
for  alarm ;  we  must,  therefore,  not  be  completely  without  reserve  with 
him  —  a  hasty  step  might  render  him  a  most  dangerous  man.  He 
must,  therefore,  be  carefully  managed,  at  least  until  the  13th  February, 
because  on  him,  and  on  his  presence  in  Paris  at  l/iis  moment,  rest  not 
only  immense  hopes,  but  also  the  most  important  interests. 

"  Carrying  out  this  system  of  management  with  him,  he  has  had 
leave  to  join  a  mission  to  America,  for  he  unites  to  an  extreme  gen- 
tleness of  disposition  the  most  perfect  intrepidity  and  a  most  adven- 
turous spirit,  which  could  only  be  satisfied  by  allowing  him  to  share  in 


108  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  perilous  life  of  the  missionaries.  Fortunately,  the  most  rigid  in- 
structions have  been  given  to  the  superiors  at  Charlestown  that  they 
will  not  expose  a  life  so  precious.  They  are  to  send  him  to  Paris,  at 
least  a  month  or  two  before  the  13th  of  February." 

Rodin's  employer  again  interrupted  him,  saying, — 

"  Read  the  letter  from  Charlestown,  and  see  what  information  it 
contains  that  will  enable  you  to  complete  this  information." 

Having  read  as  he  was  desired,  Rodin  replied, — 

"  Gabriel  is  expected  daily  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  where  he 
insisted  on  going  alone  on  a  mission." 

'*  What  imprudence ! " 

"  Oh  !  doubtless  he  ran  no  risk,  since  he  has  himself  announced 
his  own  return  to  Charlestown.  On  his  arrival,  which  cannot  be  later 
than  some  time  in  this  month,  he  will  be  immeditely  sent  forward  to 
France." 

"  Add  that  to  the  note  about  him,"  said  Rodin's  master. 

"I  have  done  so,"  was  the  reply,  after  a  few  minutes. 

"  Now,  then,  go  on." 

Rodin  complied. 

(NOTE,  No.  6.) 

Mademoiselle  Adrienne  Rennepont  de  Cardoville. 

"  Distant  relation  (and  ignorant  of  the  relationship)  of  Jacques 
Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout-nud,  and  of  Gabriel  Rennepont,  the 
missionary  priest.  She  is  very  nearly  twenty-one  years  of  age,  with 
a  countenance  singularly  prepossessing,  and  of  remarkable  beauty, 
though  with  hair  of  reddish  tinge;  an  understanding  remarkable  for 
its  originality ;  an  immense  fortune ;  possessed  of  strong  sense  and 
quick  appreciation.  There  is  much  apprehension  as  to  the  future  life 
of  this  young  person,  when  her  incredible  boldness  of  disposition  is 
considered.  Fortunately,  her  acting  guardian,  the  Baron  Tripeaud 
(baron  since  1829,  and  formerly  man  of  business  to  the  late  Count  de 
Rennepont,  duke  of  Cardoyille),  is  entirely  in  the  interest,  and  almost 
in  the  confidence,  of  the  aunt  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  We 
calculate,  and  almost  with  certainty,  on  this  worthy  and  respectable 
relative,  and  on  M.  Tripeaud,  to  combat  and  subdue  the  strange 
designs  and  unheard-of  projects  of  this  young  lady,  who  is  as  deter- 
mined as  she  is  independent,  is  always  talking  of  openly,  and  which, 
unfortunately,  cannot  be  usefully  directed  towards  the  importance  of 
the  affair  in  hand,  for " 

Rodin  could  not  proceed.  He  was  interrupted  by  two  blows  care- 
fully struck  on  the  door. 

The  secretary  arose  and  went  to  see  who  knocked,  and,  remaining 
outside  for  a  moment,  returned,  bearing  two  letters  in  his  hand, 
saying,— 

"  The  princess  has  availed  herself  of  the  departure  of  the  estafette 
to  send " 

"  Give  me  the  princess's  letter  I "  exclaimed  the  master  of  Rodin* 
not  allowing  him  to  conclude;  "give  me  the  princess's  letter!"  said 
Rodin's  superior,  without  allowing  him  time  to  finish  speaking.  "  At 
length,  then,"  added  he,  "  I  have  news  of  my  mother ! " 

But  scarcely  had  he  perused  a  few  lines  of  the  epistle  than  he 


ORDERS.  109 

turned  pale,  while  his  features  expressed  the  most  lively  astonishment 
mingled  with  the  deepest  distress. 

4«  Oh,  God  !"  cried  he;  "  my  mother ! — my  beloved  mother !" 

"  Has  any  thing  happened  to  her  ? "  exclaimed  Rodin,  starting 
from  his  seat  in  alarm  at  the  sudden  exclamation  of  his  patron. 

"  Alas  I "  returned  the  latter,  with  most  poignant  agony,  "  all 
hopes  of  her  recovery  are  at  an  end.  The  late  favourable  symptoms 
have  proved  deceitful,  and  she  has  relapsed  into  an  almost  hopeless 
state ;  still  her  physician  thinks  that  my  presence  might  yet  save  her, 
for  she  incessantly  calls  for  me,  and  prays  to  behold  me  yet  once 
again,  that  she  may  die  in  peace.  And  shall  I  not  fly  to  perform 
so  sacred  a  duty  ? — to  fail  were  to  be  a  parricide  indeed  !  Heaven 
grant  I  may  only  reach  her  in  time !  Travelling  night  and  day,  it  will 
be  two  days  ere  I  reach  the  princess's  estate." 

"Great  God!"  said  Rodin,  clasping  his  hands,  and  raising  his 
eyes  to  the  ceiling,  "  what  a  blow  ! " 

The  superior  rose,  and  hastily  pulling  the  bell,  it  was  answered  by 
an  old  domestic,  to  whom  he  said,  hurriedly, — 

"  Pack  hastily  such  things  as  are  indispensably  necessary  for  a 
journey ;  have  the  travelling  carriage  prepared  with  all  speed,  and  bid 
the  porter  take  a  cabriolet  and  proceed  as  quickly  as  may  be  to  order 
post-horses  instantly  ;  I  must  depart  within  an  hour." 

The  servant  bowed  and  retired. 

"  And  what  if  I  should  never  again  in  life  behold  this  beloved 
parent  ? — there  is  agony  in  the  very  thought.  Oh  !  ray  mother ! — my 
mother !"  reiterated  he,  sinking  into  a  chair,  overwhelmed  with  an- 
guish, and  covering  his  face  with  his  outspread  hands  ;  "  for  your  dear 
sake,  surely  Heaven  will  spare  me  this  bitter  trial." 

And  this  burst  of  grief  was  of  nature's  own  working ;  no  art,  no 
feigned  sorrow,  mingled  with  the  pure  and  sacred  feeling.  This  man, 
so  hard,  so  cold,  and  even  so  guilty  in  some  transactions  of  his  life, 
had  preserved  for  his  mother  the  most  devoted  affection ;  and 
chilled  as  was  his  heart  to  every  other  finer  sympathy  of  our  nature, 
his  filial  fondness  for  his  almost  adored  parent  had  remained  un- 
touched, undiminished,  through  all  the  various  changes  and  schemes 
of  his  chequered  career. 

After  some  moments  permitted  to  the  indulgence  of  his  agonised 
feelings,  Rodin  ventured  to  arouse  him,  by  displaying  a  second  letter, 
and  observing, — 

"  This  has  just  arrived  from  M.  Duplessis ;  it  is  most  important, 
and  in  extreme  haste." 

"See  what  it  contains,  and  reply  to  it;  I  cannot  attend  to  it 
at  present  myself." 

"  But,"  said  Rodin,  presenting  the  epistle  to  his  patron,  "  this 
letter  is  marked  '  strictly  private  and  confidential,'  and  bears  the  usual 
mark  of  being  intended  for  your  perusal  alone.  I  cannot,  therefore, 
open  unless " 

As  the  eyes  of  the  superior  fell  on  the  mark,  his  countenance 
assumed  an  indescribable  expression  of  fear  and  respect;  with  a 
trembling  hand  he  broke  the  seal,  the  billet  merely  contained  these 
words : — 

"Leaving  all  other  matterf,  set  out  withoitt  an  instant's  delay ; 


110  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

come — you  are  imperatively  required.  M.  Duple&sis  will  take  your 
placet  and  has  all  the  necessary  instructions." 

The  paper  fell  from  his  trembling  fingers. 

"  Merciful  powers  !"  exclaimed  the  distracted  man  ;  "  what  fresh 
trial  awaits  me  ?  What !  obey  this  mandate  !  and  renounce  the  melan- 
choly delight  of  once  again  beholding  a  dying  parent? — Oh  !  horrible  ! 
—  not  to  be  thought  of!  Not  go  to  her  !  'Twould  be  making  me  a 
parricide,  indeed  ! — my  own  dear  mother's  murderer  !" 

As  he  wildly  uttered  these  words,  his  perturbed  glance  was  arrested 
by  the  huge  globe,  dotted  over  with  small  red  crosses ;  and  quickly  again 
a  change  came  over  him.  He  seemed  to  regret  his  recent  impetuosity 
and  unrestrained  grief,  and  by  degrees  his  countenance,  though  still 
sorrowful,  recovered  its  usual  calm,  grave  expression.  Giving  the  letter 
back  to  his  secretary,  he  said,  stifling  a  heavy  sigh, — 

"  Number  and  class  this  paper." 

Rodin  took  the  letter,  numbered  it,  and  placed  it  in  a  particular 
case. 

After  a  short  pause,  the  patron  continued, — 

"  You  will  receive  all  necessary  directions  from  M.  Duplessis,  who 
will  take  my  place  while  absent.  Give  him  the  paper  concerning  the 
medals,  he  will  know  who  t'o  forward  it  to.  You  will  reply  to  our 
communications  from  Batavia,  Leipsic,  and  Charlestown,  as  I  dictated 
but  now.  By  all  and  every  means  prevent  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon  from  quitting  Leipsic ;  and  should  (though  it  is  highly  im- 
probable, and  scarcely  possible,  that  such  should  be  the  case)  Prince 
Djalma  arrive  in  Batavia,  inform  M.  Joshua  Van  Dael  that  it  is 
expected  he  will  use  his  accustomed  zeal  and  energy  to  detain  him 
there." 

So  saying,  the  man  who  could  thus  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  summons 
of  an  expiring  parent  returned  to  his  apartment  cool  and  self-pos- 
sessed as  ever. 

Rodin,  meanwhile,  occupied  himself  in  transcribing  in  ciphers  the 
different  replies  he  had  been  directed  to  send. 

At  the  close  of  three  quarters  of  an  hour  thus  employed,  the 
trampling  of  horses  and  the  cracking  of  whips  announced  the  arrival 
of  the  postilions  and  post-horses  for  the  approaching  departure ;  the 
same  old  domestic  who  had  previously  appeared,  having  first  discreetly 
tapped  at  the  door,  opened  it  gently,  saying, — 

"  The  carriage  is  ready ! "  and  as  Rodin  acknowledged  his  inform- 
ation by  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  the  servant  retired  as  noise- 
lessly as  he  had  entered. 

The  secretary  arose,  and  in  his  turn  knocked  at  the  door  of  his 
patron's  chamber,  who,  calm  and  collected  as  before,  but  looking 
ghastly  pale,  immediately  came  forth,  bearing  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  For  my  mother,"  said  be,  delivering  it  to  Rodin ;  "  let  a 
courier  be  sent  off  with  it  instantly." 

"This  instant,"  replied  the  secretary. 

"  And  despatch  the  three  letters  for  Leipsic,  Batavia,  and  Charles- 
town,  by  the  customary  mode  of  conveyance  ;  it  is  of  the  very  utmost 
importance  that  they  be  sent  without  a  minute's  delay.  You  under- 
stand ?  " 

Such  were  the  last  words  of  this  man,  who,  acting  as  pitilessly 


'"''I*' «;!!•':;  -:ftifii«|A-i  \ 

-(I    <  ', 

!  tilntti 


PKRE    D'AIORIGNY. 
P.  110. 


ORDERS.  Ill 

towards  himself  as  he  was  doing  to  others,  departed  without  making 
any  further  effort  to  visit  his  dying  mother. 

His  secretary  respectfully  accompanied  him  to  the  door  of  his 
carriage. 

"  What  route  do  I  take,  monsieur  ? "  asked  the  courier,  turning 
round  on  his  saddle. 

"  To  Italy,"  replied  Rodin's  patron,  with  a  sigh  so  deep,  so  full  of 
suffering,  that  it  more  resembled  a  sob. 

As  the  carriage  dashed  off  at  full  speed,  Rodin  bowed  with  pro- 
found respect,  and  then  retraced  his  steps  to  the  large,  cold,  naked- 
looking  apartment  he  had  just  quitted.  And  now  that  he  found  him- 
self alone  in  it,  his  attitude,  demeanour,  and  countenance,  appeared  to 
undergo  an  entire  transformation. 

No  longer  the  mere  automaton  yielding  an  implicit  and  mechanical 
obedience  to  the  will  and  commands  of  another,  he  seemed  to  increase 
in  height,  while  his  hitherto  motionless  features  and  downcast  eyes 
were  lighted  up  by  an  expression  of  fiendish  audacity,  while  a  sardonic 
smile  played  on  his  thin  pale  lips,  and  a  sinister  self-satisfied  gleam 
diffused  itself  over  his  wrinkled,  contracted  countenance. 

He  too  paused  to  contemplate  the  ponderous  globe,  and  his' medi- 
tations were  evidently  as  deep  and  absorbing  as  his  master's  had  been. 
Then  stooping  over  it,  and  almost  embracing  it  with  his  long  lank 
arms,  he  continued  to  feast  his  reptile  gaze  with  its  dotted  surface ; 
then  passing  his  hard  bony  finger  over  the  polished  surface  of  the 
globe,  he,  by  turns,  tapped  with  his  broad  ill-shaped  nail  on  three  of 
the  places  marked  with  red  crosses,  and  as  he  touched  each  place,  so 
widely  distant  from  the  other,  he  gave  a. look  of  demoniacal  delight 
while  he  loudly  pronounced  its  name  ;  and  first  he  uttered, — "  Leipsic" 
then  "  Charleslown,  Satavia,"  adding, 

"  In  each  of  these  so  widely  separated  cities  are  persons  far  from 
dreaming  that  here,  in  this  small  obscure  street,  in  the  recesses  of 
this  chamber,  they  are  watched — their  every  movement  known  and 
followed,  and  that  from  hence  will  instructions  be  despatched,  in- 
volving their  dearest  plans,  their  most  lively  interests,  and  decrees 
sent  forth  which  admit  of  no  escape  or  appeal,  but  will  most  inex- 
orably be  followed  up  :  for  motives  are  involved  affecting  the  whole  of 
Europe — nay,  the  universe  itself.  Happily  we  have  firm  and  able  co- 
adjutors in  Leipsic,  Batavia,  and  Charlestown." 

The  individual  thus  soliloquising,  so  old,  sordid,  and  ill-dressed, 
with  his  livid  death-like  visage,  thus  crawling  with  slimy  tread  over 
the  bright  face  of  the  earth,  as  though  to  blot  its  fair  surface  by  deeds 
of  wrong  and  treachery,  was  even  a  more  fearful  object  to  behold  as 
he  stood  than  had  been  his  employer,  when,  but  now,  with  haughty 
and  imperious  air,  he  placed  his  daring  clutch  on  the  pole  of  that 
globe,  whose  whole  extent  seemed  barely  sufficient  to  satisfy  his 
craving  ambition  and  desire  of  domination.  The  one  resembled  an 
eagle  hovering  over  his  anticipated  prey,  the  other  reminded  you  of 
the  reptile  clasping  his  victim  in  his  inextricable  folds  preparatory  to 
destroying  it. 

At  length  Rodin  quitted  the  object  of  his  intense  meditation,  and, 
returning  to  his  desk,  eagerly  rubbed  his  hands  with  every  appearance 


112  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

of  self-gratulation,  then  proceeded  to  write  the  following  letter,  using 
a  cipher  with  which  even  his  patron  was  unacquainted. 

"  Paris,  9  o'clock,  A.M. 

"  HE  lias  gone,  but  not  without  HESITATION.  When  he  received  the 
order  for  departure,  he  had  just  been  summoned  to  the  death-bed  of  his 
mother.  He  was  told  /ter  only  cJiance  of  life  lay  in  his  presence.  In 
his  first  emotion  he  exclaimed,  '  Shall  I  not  instantly  fly  to  my  parent  ? 
I  were  a  parricide  else  / ' 

"Nevertheless  HE  has  gone,  but  he  HESITATED  IN  so  DOING. 

"  /  still  carefully  watch  him.  These  lines  will  reach  ROME  as 
quickly  as  he  will. 

"  P.S.  Assure  the  prince  cardinal  he  may  fully  rely  on  me,  but  tliat  I 
expect,  in  his  turn,  he  will  serve  me  with  equal  zeal  and  activity." 

After  having  folded  and  sealed  this  letter,  Rodin  deposited  it  in 
his  pocket. 

Ten  o'clock  struck — this  was  M.  Rodin's  breakfast  hour.     He  ar- 
ranged his  papers,  and  placed  them  in  a  drawer,  which  he  carefully 
locked  and  took  the  key  from,  brushed  his  greasy  old  hat  with  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat,  took  up  a  shabby  patched  umbrella,  and  went  out.* 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

While  these  two  men  were  busied  in  this  obscure  retreat,  laying 
plans  to  injure  and  involve  the  seven  descendants  of  a  once  proscribed 
family,  a  strange  and  mysterious  protector  appeared  to  protect  and 
support  a  family  to  which  he  likewise  claimed  affinity. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

EPILOGUE. 

THE  site  is  rugged  and  wild.  It  is  a  high  hill  covered  with  vast 
blocks  of  granite,  from  amongst  which,  few  and  far  between,  are  birch- 
trees  and  oaks,  whose  leaves  already  shew  the  tints  of  autumn.  These 
large  trees  appear  still  larger  in  the  red  rays  cast  by  the  setting  sun, 
and  which  resemble  the  reflexion  of  a  fire. 

From  this  height  the  eye  directs  its  vision  into  a  deep  valley, 
which,  shady  and  fertile,  is  half-obscured  by  the  thin  vapour  which 
descends  with  the  twilight.  The  rank  meadows,  the  clumps  of 
umbrageous  trees,  the  fields,  shorn  of  their  ripened  grain,  mingle  in 

*  After  having  cited  the  excellent  and  courageous  "  Letters  "  of  M.  Libri,  and 
the  curious  work  edited  by  M.  Paulin,  it  becomes  our  duty  equally  to  make  mention 
of  the  many  highly  valuable  and  daring  productions  on  the  Jesuits,  recently  published 
by  Messieurs  Dupiu  1'aine,  Michelet,  Ed.  Quinet,  Gt-nin.  the  Count  de  Saint. 
Priests—writings  full  of  the  highest  and  most  impartial  information,  and  in  which 
the  fatal  influence  of  the  theories  promulgated  by  this  order  are  so  admirably  dis- 
played and  censured.  We  should  deem  ourselves  but  too  happy  if  the  few  humble 
stones  we  bring  serve  to  aid  in  the  powerful  (and  let  us  hope)  lasting  defence  now 
being  raised  by  these  noble-spirited  and  right-minded  men  against  the  inroads  of  this 
impure  and  formidable  stream,— E.  S. 


EPILOGUE.  113 

one  sombre  and  uniform  hue,  contrasting  strongly  with  the  clear  blue 
of  the  firmament 

Uoofs  of  gray -stone  or  slate,  thrust,  in  various  places,  their  sharp 
angles  above  the  soil  of  the  valley,  for  several  villages  were  scattered 
through  it,  on  the  borders  of  a  long  line  of  road  extending  from  north 
to  west. 

It  is  the  hour  of  rest — it  is  the  hour  when  generally  the  window  of 
each  hut  shines  with  the  sparkling  blaze  of  the  cheerful  wood  fire,  and 
is  seen  from  afar  through  the  shade  of  the  foliage,  whilst  the  curling 
smoke,  hastening  through  the  chimneys,  ascends  gently  towards  heaven. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  it  would  appear  that  throughout  this  district 
the  hearths  are  untenanted — deserted.  Still  more  strange,  more  fear- 
ful still,  all  the  bells  are  tolling  the  funeral  knell  of  the  dead. 

All  the  activity,  motion,  and  life,  seem  concentrated  in  this  dismal 
sound,  which  echoes  far  and  wide. 

Hut  at  length,  in  this  village  almost  wrapt  in  darkness,  the  lights 
began  to  appear. 

These  are  not  produced  by  the  bright  and  joyful  flame  of  the  rustic 
hearth,  but  are  red  and  dull,  like  a  watch-fire  seen  through  the 
evening  fog. 

And  these  lights  do  not  remain  motionless,  they  wave  gently 
towards  the  cemetery  of  each  church. 

There  the  death-knell  redoubles,  the  air  trembles  under  the  heavy 
tinkling  of  the  bells,  and,  at  rare  intervals,  the  hymns  for  the  repose  of 
the  souls  of  the  dead  reach  faintly  to  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

Wherefore  so  many  burials?  What  is  this  valley  of  desolation? 
Where  are  the  peaceful  strains  that  should  follow  the  day's  labour  ? — 
why  are  they  displaced  by  the  hymns  for  the  departed  ?  Wherefore 
is  the  repose  of  evening  replaced  by  the  repose  of  death  ? 

What  is  this  valley  of  desolation,  wherein  each  village  bewails  so 
many  dead  at  the  same  time,  and  inters  them  at  the  same  hour,  on  the 
same  night  ? 

Alas !  the  mortality  is  so  rife,  so  rapid,  so  fearful,  that  hardly 
enough  of  the  living  are  left  to  bury  the  dead.  During  the  day  severe 
and  requisite  toil  is  done  by  the  survivors,  and  in  the  evening  only,  on 
their  return  from  the  fields,  are  they  able,  though  worn  out  by  fatigue, 
to  make  that  deeper  furrow  in  the  soil,  in  which  they  deposit  their 
friends  and  kinsfolk  like  grains  of  wheat  in  the  plough-land. 

This  valley  is  not  solitary  in  thus  suffering  from  desolation. 

For  many  wretched  years  many  villages,  many  towns,  many  cities, 
nay,  immense  districts,  have  been  like  this  valley  —  their  hearth-fires 
extinct  and  forsaken;  —  have  seen,  like  this  valley,  mourning  substi- 
tuted for  joy;  the  death-toll  replace  the  sounds  of  pleasure;  —  have, 
like  this  valley,  wept  for  the  many  dead  the  same  day  ;  and  buried 
them  at  ii'ght,  by  the  dull  light  of  the  funereal  torch. 

For  many  dreadful  years  a  horrible  traveller  has  slowly  overrun  the 
earth  from  pole  to  pole — from  the  furthermost  parts  of  India  and  Asia, 
to  the  endless  snows  of  Siberia — from  the  snows  of  Siberia,  to  the 
shores  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  This  traveller,  mysterious  as  death,  slow 
as  eternity,  implacable  as  destiny,  terrible  in  the  hand  of  God,  was — 

The  CHOLERA  !  I 

*  *  *  •  * 

8  i 


114  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  noise  of  the  funeral  bells  and  hymns  ascended  still  from  the 
bottom  to  the  summit  of  the  valley,  with  a  loud  and  wailing  voice. 

The  light  of  the  funereal  torches  was  seen  afar  through  the  gloom 
of  the  evening. 

The  twilight  was  not  yet  obscured,  but  there  was  that  singular 
glimmering  which  gives  to  forms  the  most  defined  a  vague,  indefinite, 
and  fantastic  appearance. 

The  stony  and  echoing  soil  of  the  mountain  path  gives  out  the 
sounds  of  a  slow,  firm,  and  equal  tread — a  man  has  passed  across  the 
black  trunks  of  the  tall  trees. 

His  stature  is  high  ;  he  keeps  his  head  lowered  on  his  breast ;  his 
countenance  is  noble,  gentle,  and  sad ;  his  eyebrows,  united  into  one, 
extended  from  one  temple  to  the  other,  and  spread  over  his  forehead 
one  ray  of  sinistrous  aspect. 

This  man  seemed  not  to  hear  the  distant  tinklings  of  the  funeral 
bells ;  and  yet,  but  two  days  before,  tranquillity,  happiness,  health,  and 
joy,  reigned  in  these  spots  which  he  had  slowly  traversed,  and  now  left 
behind  him  desolate  and  deserted. 

But  the  traveller  wended  onwards  absorbed  in  these  thoughts : — 

"  The  13th  of  February  approaches — they  come  ;  those  days  in 
which  the  descendants  of  my  beloved  sister,  these  last  branches  of  our 
race,  would  be  assembled  in  Paris. 

"  Alas  !  for  the  third  time,  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  per- 
secution scattered  all  over  the  earth  that  family  which,  with  tender- 
ness, I  have  followed  from  age  to  age  for  eighteen  centuries, —  in  the 
midst  of  their  wanderings,  their  exiles,  their  changes  of  religion,  of 
fortune,  and  of  name  ! 

"  Oh  !  this  family,  the  progeny  of  my  sister — the  sister  of  me,  a 
poor  artisan*  —  how  has  it  suffered  in  abasements,  in  obscurity,  in 
brilliancy,  in  miseries,  in  glory  ! 

"  By  how  many  virtues  has  it  been  illustrated — by  how  many  vices 
stained ! 

"  The  history  of  this  one  family  is  the  history  of  all  the  children  of 
humanity. 

"  Passing  through  so  many  generations,  flowing  through  the  veins 
of  the  poor  and  rich,  the  sovereign  and  the  robber,  the  wise  and  the 
foolish,  the  coward  and  the  brave,  the  pious  and  the  atheist, —  the 
blood  of  my  sister  has  been  perpetuated  to  this  time. 

"  What  of  this  family  remains  at  this  hour? 

"  Seven  offspring  ! 

"  Two  orphan  girls,  children  of  a  proscribed  mother  and  proscribed 
father 

"  A  dethroned  prince 


"  A  poor  missionary  priest 


"  The  subject  of  the  legend  ol'tbe  "  Wandering  Jew"  is  that  of  a  poor  shoemaker 
of  Jerusalem.  When  Christ,  bearing  his  cross,  pa-ssrd  before  his  house,  and  asked  his 
leave  to  repose  for  a  moment  on  the  stone  bench  at  his  door,  the  Jew  replied  harshly, 
"Ontrardi!  Onuard*!"  and  refused  him.  "It  it  thou  who  shall  go  onward*  — 
•iiiiiiinl.i  —  till  the  end  of  time  ! "  was  Christ's  reply,  in  u  sad  hot  severe  tone.  For 
more  details,  our  readers  should  refer  to  the  eloquent  and  learned  notice  of  M.  Charles 
Maguin,  which  introduces  M.  Ed.  Quiuet's  magnificent  poem  of  "  Ahasuerus.'* — 
EUGENE  SUE. 


EPILOGUE.  115 

"  A  man  in  the  circumstances  of  middle  life 

"  A  young  maiden  of  illustrious  birth,  and  vast  fortune  — — 

"  A  mechanic 

*'  And  amongst  them  they  comprise  the  virtues,  the  courage,  the 
degradation,  the  splendours,  the  miseries  of  our  race  ! 

"  Siberia — India — America  —  France — Fate  has  thrown  them  in 
nil  these  countries ! 

"  Instinct  warns  me  when  one  of  them  is  in  danger  —  then,  from 
north  to  south,  from  east  to  west,  I  go  to  them.  Yesterday,  beneath 
the  ices  of  the  pole  —  to-day,  to  the  temperate  zone  —  to-morrow, 
beneath  the  tropics'  scorching  ray  ;  but  alas  !  often  at  the  moment 
when  my  presence  would  save  them,  an  invisible  hand  impels  me,  the 
whirlwind  hurries  me  away,  and  — 

"  ONWARDS  !  —  ONWARDS  ! 

"  Let  me  finish  my  task  ! 

"  ONWARDS! 

"  One  hour  only  !  —  One  moment's  rest ! 

"  ONWARDS  ! 

"  Alas  !  I  leave  those  I  love,  on  the  very  brink  of  an  abyss  ! 

"  ONWARDS  !  —  ONWARDS  ! 

"  This  is  my  chastisement.    If  it  is  great,  my  crime  was  greater  still ! 

"  A  mechanic,  kept  in  privation  and  misery,  misfortune  made  me 
wicked. 

"  Oh  !  cursed  —  cursed  for  ever  be  the  day  when,  whilst  I  was 
fasting,  dull,  melancholy,  desperate,  because,  in  spite  of  my  constant 
labour,  my  family  were  still  in  want,  Christ  passed  before  my  door! 

"  Overwhelmed  by  insults,  borne  down  by  blows,  and  bearing  with 
toil  and  great  difficulty  his  heavy  cross,  he  asked  me  to  allow  him  to 
rest,  for  one  moment  only,  on  my  stone  bench.  His  forehead  poured 
down  with  sweat,  his  feet  were  bleeding,  his  face  in  agony ;  and,  with 
touching  sweetness,  he  said  to  me,  '  I  suffer  I '  '  And  I  also  suffer,'  I 
answered,  in  a  brutal  tone,  repulsing  him  with  harshness  and  rage  —  'I 
suffer :  but  no  one  comes  to  my  aid.  The  pitiless  create  the  pitiless. 
Onwards  !  — Onwards  ! ' 

"  Then  he,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  said  to  me, — 

"  '  And  t/iou  shalt  go  otiwards  until  the  Day  of  Judgment ;  so  does 
HE  will  it,  the  Lord  iv/io  is  in  heaven' 

11  And  my  chastisement  began. 

"  Too  late  did  I  see  my  error ;  too  late  have  I  known  repentance ; 
too  late  have  I  known  charity ;  too  late,  indeed,  have  I  understood  the 
Divine  words  of  him  I  so  outraged — those  words  which  ought  to  be 
the  law  of  all  human  kind — 

'  LOVE  ONE  ANOTHER.' 

"  In  vain,  for  ages,  seeking  to  deserve  forgiveness,  exhausting  my 
strength  and  eloquence  in  these  heavenly  words,  have  I  filled  with  pity 
and  love  many  hearts  filled  with  envy,  hatred,  and  all  uncharitableness: 
in  vain  have  I  inspired  many  souls  with  a  holy  horror  of  oppression 
and  injustice. 

'  The  day  of  mercy  has  not  yet  arrived ! 

"  And  as  the  first  man,  by  his  fall,  devoted  his  posterity  to  mis- 
fortune, so  M'ould  they  say  that  I,  an  artisan,  have  devoted  all  artisans 


116  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

to  eternal  miseries,  and  that  they  expiate  my  crime :  for  they  alone, 
for  eighteen  centuries,  have  not  been  emancipated. 

"  For  eighteen  centuries,  the  powerful  and  the  happy  say  to  the 
working  classes  what  I  said  to  the  imploring  and  suffering  Christ  — 

"  '  Onwards  !  —  Onwards  f ' 

"  And  these  people,  like  him,  broken  down  with  fatigue  and  bear- 
ing a  heavy  cross,  say,  as  he  did,  with  bitter  sadness,  '  Oh !  for  pity's 
sake,  some  moments  of  rest — we  are  exhausted ! ' 

"  Onwards/ 

"  But  we  shall  die  on  the  way ;  and  what  then  will  become  of  our 
little  ones,  old  mothers? 

"  Onwards  !  —  Onwards  ! 

"  And  for  ages  and  ages  they  shall  go  on,  and  on,  and  on,  and 
suffer — suffer,  whilst  no  pitying  voice  says  to  us,  Enough  ! 

"  Alas !  such  is  my  chastisement ;  it  is  terrible  to  bear — it  is  two- 
fold weighty. 

"  I  suffer  in  the  name  of  all  humanity  when  I  see  the  wretched 
population  sacrificed,  without  relaxation,  to  rude  and  ungrateful  toil. 

"  I  suffer  in  the  name  of  every  family  when  I  am  unable — I,  poor 
and  wandering — to  come  to  the  rescue  of  my  own,  of  the  descendants 
of  a  dearly  beloved  sister. 

"  But  when  my  grief  o'ermasters  my  strength — when  I  foresee  for 
my  family  a  danger  from  which  I  cannot  save  them, — thus  traversing 
worlds,  my  thoughts  desire  to  seek  the  woman — cursed  as  I  am — that 
queen's  daughter,*  who,  like  me,  the  child  of  an  artisan,  goes  onwards, 
onwards,  till  the  day  of  redemption. 

"  Once  only  in  a  century,  eveii  as  two  planets  approach  each  other 
in  their  secular  revolutions,  may  I  meet  this  woman— during  the  fatal 
week  of  the  Passion. 

"  And  after  this  interview,  full  of  fearful  recollections  and  thrilling 
grief,  we,  the  wandering  stars  of  eternity,  again  proceed  on  our  endless 
journey. 

"  And  she,  the  only  one  with  me  on  earth  who  is  present  at  the 
close  of  each  century,  and  says,  « Again  I ' — she,  from  one  end  of  the 
universe  to  the  other,  responds  to  my  thought. 

"  She,  who  alone  in  the  world  shews  an  equal  destiny  with  myself, 
would  also  share  the  sole  interest  which  has  for  ages  consoled  me. 
These  descendants  of  my  sister  she  too  loves — protects  them  also.  For 
them  she  also,  too,  from  the  east  and  the  west,  and  the  north  and  the 
south,  goes — comes. 

"But,  alas!  the  invisible  hand  impels  her  also — the  whirlwind 
hurries  her  away  likewise.  And — 

"  ONWARDS  !" 

"  '  Let  me  but  complete  my  task,'  she  too  exclaims. 

"  ONWARDS  I" 

"  One  hour — one  single  hour  of  rest  1" 

"  ONWARDS!" 

"  I  leave  those  I  love  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss." 

"  ONWARDS  ! — ONWARDS  I " 

»»**## 

*  According  to  a  legend  hut  little  known,  Herodias  was  condemned  to  wander 
till  the  Day  of  Judgment  for  having  demanded  John  the  Baptist's  head. 


EPILOGUE.  1 

Whilst  this  man  thus  passed  along  the  mountain,  deeply  abstracted 
in  his  thoughts,  the  evening  breeze,  till  then  but  light,  had  increased, 
the  wind  became  louder  and. louder,  and  lightning  darted  along  the 
sky  ;  whilst  deep  and  loud  howlings  announced  the  coming  storm. 
Suddenly,  this  accursed  man,  who  could  neither  weep  nor  smile, 
shuddered. 

No  physical  harm  could  affect  him  :  yet  lie  placed  his  hand  sud- 
denly on  liis  heart,  as  it'  he  experienced  sojne  deadly  blow. 

"  Oh!"  he  cried,  "  I  feel  it  I  At  this  hour,  many  of  my  race, 
the  descendants  of  my  dearly  beloved  sister,  sutler  and  undergo  great 
peril : — some  in  uttermost  India,  others  in  America,  others  here  in 
Germany.  The  struggle  again  commences  —  devilish  passions  are 
again  excited.  Oh  !  thou  who  nearest  me,  thou,  wandering  as  I  am, 
and  accursed  as  I  am,  Herodias,  aid  me  to  protect  them :  let  my 
prayer  reach  thee  in  the  depths  of  the  solitudes  of  America,  where  at 
this  moment  thou  art !  Oh  !  that  we  may  be  in  time  to  save  them!" 

Then  a  remarkable  phenomenon  occurred. 

It  was  now  night. 

This  man  made  an  effort  to  return  quickly  on  his  path ;  but  an 
invisible  form  prevented  him,  and  thrust  him  in  the  opposite  direction. 

At  this  moment  the  tempest  burst  forth  in  all  its  dark  and  fierce 
majesty. 

One  of  those  whirlwinds  which  uproots  trees,  tears  up  rocks,  passed 
over  the  mountain-top  as  quick  and  terrible  as  the  levin  bolt. 

In  the  midst  of  the  howling  of  the  storm,  and  the  glare  of  the 
lightning,  the  man,  with  the  forehead  branded  by  his  black  hair,  was 
seen  hurrying  along  the  mountain-side,  and,  descending  with  rapid 
strides  across  the  rocks  and  trees,  bent  beneath  the  power  of  the 
hurricane. 

His  step  was  no  longer  slow,  firm,  composed ;  but  painfully  im- 
pelled, like  a  person  hurried  on  by  an  irresistible  force,  or  whom  a 
fearful  storm  carried  away  in  its  whirlwind. 

In  vain  did  the  man  extend  his  supplicating  hands  towards  heaven, 
he  disappeared  rapidly  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  the  howl  of 
the  tempest. 


118  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


PART  III. 


THE     STRANGLERS.* 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  AJOUPA. 

WHILST  M.  Rodin  was  despatching  his  universal  correspondence 
from  the  Rue  du  Mileu-des-Ursins,  at  Pans;  whilst  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon,  after  having  quitted  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  as 
fugitives,  were,  with  Dagobert,  confined  as  prisoners  at  Leipsic,  other 
scenes,  in  which  they  were  deeply  interested,  were  passing  similarly, 
and  at  the  same  moment,  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  world,  in  the 
very  depths  of  Asia,  in  the  isle  of  Java,  not  far  from  the  city  of 
Batavia,  the  residence  of  M.  Joshua  Van  Duel,  one  of  the  correspou- 
dents  of  M.  Rodiu. 

Java! — that  magnificent  and  fearful  clime,  where  the  most  lovely 
flowers  conceal  the  most  hideous  reptiles  ;  where  the  most  tempting 
fruit  contain  the  most  subtle  poisons;  where  spring  those  splendid 
trees  whose  shadow  is  death ;  where  the  vampire,  an  enormous  bat, 
sucks  up  the  blood  of  the  victims  whose  sleep  he  prolongs,  by  wafting 
over  them  an  air  full  of  freshness  and  perfume,  for  the  most  briskly 
used  fan  is  not  more  rapid  than  the  motion  of  the  vast  and  scented 
wings  of  this  monster. 

The  month  of  October,  1831,  was  nearly  at  its  close. 

It  is  noon,  an  hour  almost  deadly  for  any  one  who  dares  the  burn- 
ing sun,  which  was  full  in  the  sky,  whose  blue  enamel  was  dappled  with 
streaks  of  blazing  light. 

An  ajoupa,  a  sort  of  sleeping  pavilion,  made  with  mats  of  bulrush 
stretched  upon  thick  bamboos  driven  deeply  into  the  ground,  might  be 
seen  in  the  midst  of  the  dark-blue  shade  cast  by  a  tuft  of  trees,  whose 
verdure  was  as  bright  as  the  greenest  porcelain  ;  those  trees,  of  fan- 
tastic forms,  were  here  bent  into  the  shape  of  arcades — here  straight 
as  arrows — there  arranged  like  parasols,  and  so  tufty,  so  thick,  so  en- 
tangled one  in  the  other,  that  the  roof  they  formed  was  impenetrable 
to  rain. 

The  ground,  always  marshy  in  spite  of  the  glowing  heat,  disap- 
peared here  beneath  the  masses  of  bindweed,  fern,  and  thick  rushes, 

*  Phantigars,  or  stranglers  (from  the  Hindoo  word  phasna,  to  strangle).  We 
shall  give,  farther  on,  details  of  this  remarkable  community,  called  '*  The  Good  Work." 


THE  AJOUPA.  119 

all  in  the  freshness  and  vigour  of  rank  vegetation,  and  which,  growing 
almost  to  the  top  of  the  ajoupa,  concealed  it  like  a  nest  amidst  the 
grass. 

Nothing  could  be  more  suffocating  than  this  atmosphere,  scented 
as  it  was  with  moist  exhalations,  which  steamed  up  like  boiling  water, 
and  impregnated  as  it  was  with  the  most  overpowering  and  pungent 
odours, — for  the  cinnamon-tree,  the  ginger,  the  gardenia,  the  stepha- 
notis,  mingling  amongst  these  trees  and  creepers,  gave  out  in  volumes 
their  sable  and  acrid  odours. 

This  cabin  was  covered  over  with  large  banana  leaves ;  at  one  end 
was  a  square  aperture,  which  served  for  a  window,  and  trellised  over 
very  finely  with  vegetable  fibres,  to  prevent  the  noxious  reptiles  and 
venomous  insects  from  entering  the  ajoupa. 

The  vast  trunk  of  a  dead  tree,  still  standing  but  very  much  bent, 
and  whose  top  touched  the  roof  of  the  ajoupa,  sprung  from  the  under- 
wood ;  from  each  cleft  and  crevice  of  its  black,  rugged,  and  moss- 
covered  bark,  there  appeared  a  peculiar  and  fantastic  flower — the  wing 
of  a  butterfly  is  not  of  more  fragile  tissue,  of  more  brilliant  purple,  or 
more  velvetty  black — those  unknown  birds  we  see  in  dreams  have  not 
forms  more  bizarre  than  these  orchydes,  winged  flowers,  which  always 
seem  ready  to  fly  away  from  their  slender  and  leafless  stalks :  the 
curling  cactus,  flexible  and  rounded,  and  which  seem  like  apples,  also 
clung  round  the  trunk  of  this  tree,  and  their  green  arms,  laden  with 
large  bell-flowers,  of  a  silvery  white,  shaded  within  by  a  brilliant 
orange,  hung  down  in  clusters,  shedding  a  strong  odour  of  vanilla. 

A  little  snake,  of  a  blood-red  colour,  about  as  thick  as  a  quill,  and 
five  or  six  inches  in  length,  hung  with  his  head  half  out  of  one  of 
these  enormous  perfumed  cups,  in  which  he  lay  nestled  and  coiled. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  ajoupa  was  a  young  man,  stretched  on  a  mat 
and  soundly  asleep. 

To  contemplate  his  clear  yellow  and  gold-coloured  complexion,  he 
might  have  been  taken  for  a  statue  of  pale  copper,  on  which  a  sun- 
beam rested  ;  his  attitude  was  simple  and  graceful — his  right  arm  was 
folded  under  his  head,  which  reposed  upon  it,  and  was  somewhat  raised 
and  in  profile  ;  his  large  dress  of  white  muslin,  with  long  hanging 
sleeves,  displayed  his  chest,  worthy  of  Antinous ;  marble  is  not  more 
firm  and  solid  than  his  skin,  of  which  the  dark  hue  contrasted  singu- 
larly with  the  whiteness  of  his  dress.  On  his  wide  and  powerful  chest 
was  a  deep  scar,  which  he  had  received  from  a  musket-ball  when  de- 
fending the  life  of  General  Simon,  the  father  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

He  wore  round  his  neck  a  small  medal  similar  to  that  which  the 
two  sisters  possessed. 

It  was  Djalma  the  Indian. 

His  features  were  equally  noble  and  beautiful ;  hi*  hair  was  of  a 
blue-black,  parted  over  the  forehead,  and  falling  wavy,  but  not  curling, 
on  his  shoulder ;  his  eyebrows,  boldly  and  perfectly  drawn,  were  also 
of  jet  black,  as  were  the  long  eyelids  whose  shade  was  thrown  over  his 
beardless  checks ;  his  lips,  of  a  dark  red,  half  open,  gave  forth  an  ap- 
propriate sigh,  whilst  his  slumber  was  heavy  and  painful,  as  the  heat 
became  more  and  more  suffocating. 

Without  the  sileuce  was  profound.  There  was  not  a  breath  of 
air  stirring. 


120  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

After  a  few  moments,  however,  the  vast  creepers  which  covered 
the  ground  began  to  move  almost  imperceptibly,  as  if  some  animal 
slowly  creeping  along  had  shaken  their  stalks. 

From  time  to  time  this  slight  movement  ceased,  and  all  was  again 
still  as  death. 

After  several  intervals  between  this  motion  and  its  cessation,  a 
human  head  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  rushes  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  trunk  of  the  decayed  tree. 

It  was  a  man  of  sinister  aspect,  with  a  complexion  of  greenish 
bronze,  his  long  hair  twisted  about  his  head,  his  eyes  glaring  with 
savage  feeling,  and  a  countenance  replete  with  intelligence  and  ferocity. 

Holding  his  breath,  he  remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  and  then, 
advancing  on  his  hands  and  knees,  pushed  aside  the  leaves  so  gently 
that  not  a  sound  was  heard ;  and  thus  progressing,  until  he  reached 
the  sloping  trunk  of  the  dead  tree  whose  top  reached  nearly  to  the  top 
of  the  ajoupa. 

This  man,  a  Malay  by  origin,  and  belonging  to  the  sect  of 
Stranglers,  having  again  carefully  listened,  drew  himself  almost  entirely 
out  of  the  underwood.  Excepting  a  sort  of  white  cotton  drawers 
fastened  round  his  loins  by  a  handkerchief  of  most  gaudy  colours,  he 
was  entirely  naked,  whilst  a  thick  dressing  of  oil  was  smeared  all  over 
his  bronzed,  supple,  and  nervous  limbs. 

.  Stretching  himself  upon  the  vast  bole  of  the  tree  on  the  side 
farthest  from  the  hut,  and  thus  concealed  by  the  bulk  of  the  tree 
almost  overgrown  by  the  creepers,  he  began  to  climb  it  with  extreme 
care  and  patience.  In  the  undulations  of  his  backbone,  the  flexibility 
of  his  movements,  and  his  enduring  strength,  the  extent  of  which  must 
have  been  terrible,  there  was  something  which  resembled  the  stilly 
and  treacherous  step  of  the  tiger  crawling  to  his  prey. 

Reaching  at  length,  and  unobserved,  the  part  of  the  tree  which  in 
its  bend  almost  touched  the  roof  of  the  cabin,  he  was  not  more  than 
a  foot  distance  from  the  small  window.  Then,  stretching  forth  his 
head  with  the  utmost  caution,  he  cast  his  eyes  into  the  interior  of  the 
hut,  and  tried  to  discover  some  mode  by  which  he  could  enter. 

At  the  sight  of  Djalma  in  a  deep  sleep,  the  bright  eyes  of  the 
Strangler  shone  with  redoubled  brilliancy,  and  a  nervous  contraction, 
or  rather,  a  silent  and  scornful  laugh,  curling  the  two  corners  of  his 
mouth,  drew  them  up  towards  his  cheek-bones,  and  displayed  two  rows 
of  teeth  filed  triangularly  like  the  teeth  of  a  saw,  and  dyed  of  a  jet 
and  shining  black. 

Djalma  was  sleeping  so,  and  so  near  the  door  of  the  ajoupa  (which 
opened  inwards  from  without),  that  if  any  one  had  attempted  to  open  the 
door  ever  so  little,  he  would  have  awakened  in  an  instant. 

The  Strangler,  whose  body  was  hidden  by  the  tree,  desiring  to 
examine  the  interior  of  the  cabin  a  little  more  closely,  leaned  forward, 
and,  to  maintain  his  position,  placed  his  hand  lightly  on  the  sill  of  the 
opening  which  served  for  a  window :  his  motion  shook  the  large  flower 
of  the  cactus,  at  the  bottom  of  which  the  small  snake  lay  coiled,  and, 
darting  out,  he  twined  rapidly  round  the  Strangler's  wrist. 

Pain  and  surprise  extracted  from  him  a  slight  cry;  and,  as  he 
retreated  behind  the  tree  to  which  he  still  clung,  he  saw  that  Djalma 
had  stirred. 


THE  AJOUPA.  121 

The  young  Indian,  still  keeping  his  posture  of  repose,  half  opened 
his  eyes,  turned  his  head  towards  the  little  window,  and  breathed  forth 
a  veiy  deep  sigh,  for  the  concentrated  heat  under  this  thick  vault  of 
humid  verdure  was  intolerable. 

Djalma  had  scarcely  stirred,  when  there  was  heard  from  behind  the 
tree  that  brief,  sharp,  and  shrill  cry,  which  the  bird  of  paradise  utters 
when  he  seizes  his  prey,  and  which  resembles  the  pheasant's  mate. 

This  cry,  often  repeated,  became  weaker  and  weaker,  as  if  the 
beautiful  bird  was  on  the  wing.  And  Djalma,  believing  that  he  had 
discovered  the  cause  of  the  noise  which  had  aroused  him  for  the 
moment,  slightly  stretched  the  arm  on  which  his  head  rested,  and  went 
oft'  to  sleep  again  almost  without  changing  his  position. 

For  some  minutes  the  most  profound  silence  reigned  again  in  this 
solitude  :  all  was  silent. 

The  Strangler,  by  his  skilful  imitation  of  the  cry  of  a  bird,' had 
managed  to  repair  the  imprudent  exclamation  of  surprise  and  agony 
which  the  reptile's  sting  had  wrung  from  him.  When  he  imagined 
that  Djalma  would  be  again  asleep,  he  carefully  protruded  his  head, 
and  saw  that  the  youthful  Indian  was  again  slumbering  soundly. 

Then  descending  the  tree  with  the  same  precautions  he  had 
hitherto  observed,  although  his  left  hand  was  swollen  from  the  bite  of 
the  serpent,  he  disappeared  amidst  the  tufts  of  rushes. 

At  this  moment  there  was  heard  a  distant  singing,  in  a  monoto- 
nous and  melancholy  voice. 

The  Strangler  stood  up,  listened  attentively,  and  his  face  assumed 
an  expression  of  surprise  and  sinister  meaning. 

The  sound  drew  nearer  to  the  cabin. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  seconds  an  Indian  appeared  in  an  opening, 
coming  straight  to  the  spot  where  the  Strangler  was  hidden. 

He  then  took  a  long  and  thin  cord  which  was  encircled  round  his 
waist,  at  one  of  the  extremities  of  which  was  a  ball  of  lead,  in  shape 
and  size  like  an  egg.  After  having  tied  the  other  end  of  this  string 
round  his  right  wrist,  the  Strangler  again  listened,  and  then  disap- 
peared, groping  his  way  along  the  tall  grass  in  the  direction  of  the 
Indian,  who  came  on  slowly,  singing  his  plaintive  and  gentle  ditty. 

He  was  a  young  man,  hardly  twenty  years  of  age,  the  slave  of 
Djalma,  and  had  the  dark  skin  of  his  country.  His  waist  was  encir- 
cled with  a  gay  handkerchief,  which  confined  his  blue  cotton  vest, 
and  he  wore  a  small  turban,  with  rings  of  silver  in  his  ears  and  round 
his  wrists.  He  was  bringing  a  message  to  his  master,  who,  during 
the  heat  of  the  day,  was  reposing  in  this  ajoupa,  which  was  at  some 
distance  from  the  house  in  which  he  resided. 

When  he  reached  a  point  where  the  path  divided;  the  slave,  with- 
out hesitating,  took  that  which  led  to  the  hut,  from  which  he  was 
then  hardly  forty  paces  distant. 

One  of  those  enormous  butterflies  of  Java,  whose  wings,  when  ex- 
tended, measure  from  six  to  eight  inches  across,  and  displaying  two 
rays  of  gold,  arising  from  a  body  of  ultramarine,  was  flitting  from 
leaf  to  leaf,  and  had  just  settled  on  a  bush  of  gardenias  within  reach  of 
the  young  Indian. 

He  ceased  his  song,  stopped,  put  out  his  foot  carefully,  then  his 
hand,  and  seized  the  butterfly. 


122  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

At  this  instant,  the  sinister  visage  of  the  Strangler  arose  before 
him;  he  heard  a  whistling  like  that  of  a  sling,  and  then  felt  a  eord, 
thrown  with  equal  swiftness  and  power,  encircle  his  neck  with  a  triple 
fold,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  the  lead  with  which  it  was  loaded 
struck  him  violently  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

The  assault  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected,  that  Djalma's  attend- 
ant could  not  utter  one  cry — one  groan. 

He  staggered — the  Strangler  gave  a  violent  twist  to  his  cord  —  the 
dark  visage  of  the  slave  became  a  black  purple,  and  he  fell  on  his 
knees,  tossing  his  arms  wildly  in  the  air. 

The  Strangler  turned  him  over,  and  twisted  his  cord  so  violently 
that  the  blood  rushed  through  the  skin.  The  victim  made  a  few  con- 
vulsive struggles,  and  all  was  over. 

During  this  rapid  but  brief  agony,  the  murderer,  kneeling  beside 
his  victim,  watched  his  blighted  convulsions,  fixing  his  glaring  eyes  on 
him,  and  appearing  as  if  enjoying  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  His  nostrils 
expanded,  the  veins  in  his  temples  and  neck  swelled  thickly,  and  the 
same  sinister  laugh,  which  had  curled  his  lips  when  he  saw  Djalma 
sleeping,  again  displayed  his  black  and  pointed  fangs,  whilst  a  con- 
vulsion of  the  jaw  made  them  chatter  against  each  other. 

But  soon  he  crossed  his  arms  over  his  panting  chest,  bent  his 
forehead,  and  murmured  forth  mysterious  words,  which  seemed  either 
an  invocation  or  a  prayer,  and  then  again  he  resumed  that  savage 
contemplation  with  which  the  sight  of  the  dead  carcass  inspired  him. 

The  hyaena  and  the  tiger-cat,  who  always  crouch  beside  the  prey 
they  have  surprised  in  the  chase  before  they  devour  it,  have  not  a 
look  more  fierce,  bloody,  and  rejoicing,  than  had  this  man. 

But,  recollecting  that  his  task  was  not  yet  accomplished,  he  tore 
himself  away  with  regret  from  this  sight  of  death,  and,  disentangling 
his  cord  from  the  neck  of  his  victim,  he  restored  it  to  its  place  around 
his  waist,  dragged  the  dead  corpse  out  of  the  pathway,  and,  without  at- 
tempting to  despoil  it  of  its  rings  of  silver,  hid  the  body  in  a  thick 
bush  of  rushes. 

Then  the  Strangler,  again  going  on  hands  and  knees,  reached 
Djalma's  cabin,  which  was  made  of  mats  fastened  to  bamboos. 

After  having  listened  very  attentively,  he  drew  from  his  waist  a 
knife,  whose  keen  and  glittering  blade  \vas  wrapped  in  a  leaf  of 
banana,  and  cut  in  a  mat  an  incision  about  three  feet  long.  This  he 
did  so  rapidly,  and  with  a  blade  so  trenchant,  that  the  slight  noise  of  a 
diamond  over  glass  sounds  more  loudly. 

Seeing  through  this  opening,  \\hicli  he  intended  to  pass  through, 
that  Djalma  still  slept,  the  Strangler  glided  into  the  hut  with  un- 
hesitating boldness. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE  TATTOOING. 


THE  sky,  which  until  then  was  of  a  transparent  azure,  became 
overcast,  and  the  sun  was  partially  hidden  by  a  red  and  lowering 
mist. 


THE    TATTOOING. 
P.  Itt. 


London:  Chapman  and  Hall.     January  1, 


THE  TATTOOING.  123 

This  strange  light  cast  curious  shadows  on  all  objects,  and  every 
thing  seemed  as  a  landscape  would  do  viewed  through  a  piece  of  cop- 
per-coloured glass. 

In  these  climates,  this  phenomenon,  united  with  the  increase  of 
the  fierce  heat,  always  announces  the  approach  of  a  tempest. 

From  time  to  time  there  was  a  sulphurous  smell,  then  the  leaves, 
slightly  stirred  by  the  electric  current,  trembled  on  their  stalks,  then 
fell  into  a  silence  and  utter  want  of  motion. 

The  weight  of  this  burning  atmosphere,  saturated  with  acrid  per- 
fumes, became  almost  insupportable.  Large  beads  of  sweat  dropped 
from  Djalma's  brow,  plunged  as  he  was  in  enervating  sleep,  which 
was  no  refreshment  or  repose,  but  an  overwhelming  pain. 

The  Strangler,  gliding  along  the  sides  [of  the  ajoupa,  and  crawling 
on  his  stomach  to  Djalma's  mat,  at  first  stooped  low  beside  him,  and 
then  raised  himself  up,  occupying  the  smallest  possible  space. 

Then  began  a  fearful  scene,  surrounded  by  mystery  and  in  silence. 

The  life  of  Djalma  was  at  the  Strangler's  mercy  j  who,  drawing  him- 
self together,  and  supporting  his  whole  weight  upon  his  hands  and 
knees,  remained  with  extended  neck  and  tixed  gaze,  like  a  wild  beast 
about  to  spring  upon  his  prey,  a  slight  convulsive  tremor  in  his 
lower  jaw  alone  disturbing  his  bronzed  countenance ;  but  quickly 
were  his  hideous  features  distorted  by  the  struggle  passing  within  him 
between  the  thirst  for  blood,  the  enjoyment  of  murder,  doubly  excited 
by  the  recent  assassination  of  the  slave,  and  the  prohibition  he  had 
received  not  to  aim  at  the  life  of  Djalma,  although  the  motive  which 
had  brought  him  to  the  ajoupa  was  fraught  with  evil  designs  the 
young  Indian  would  have  dreaded  far  more  than  death  itself. 

Twice  had  the  Strangler,  whose  looks  kindled  momentarily  into  in- 
creased ferocity,  supporting  himself  only  on  his  right  hand,  seized  the 
extremity  of  his  fatal  cord,  but  the  murderous  design  failed  before  the 
all-powerful  influence  which  bore  irresistible  control  over  the  mind 
of  the  Malay,  and  the  extended  hand  was  involuntarily  withheld  even 
at  the  moment  when  his  savage  soul  most  craved  for  blood  ;  and,  in 
his  insensate  craving  for  murder,  he  allowed  precious  moments  to  es- 
cape, which  might  involve  not  only  the  success  of  his  mission,  but  his 
very  life ;  for  Djalma,  whose  vigour,  address,  and  courage,  were 
every  where  known  and  estimated,  might  awake,  and,  though  un- 
armed, prove  a  formidable  adversary. 

As,  at  length,  these  reflections  forced  themselves  on  the  mind  of 
the  Strangler,  with  a  deep  and  bitter  sigh  he  resigned  himself  to  the 
stern  necessity  of  allowing  his  victim  to  live,  and  prepared  himself  to 
accomplish  the  task  assigned  him, — a  task  which,  to  any  but  him, 
would  have  api>eared  utterly  impossible.  Let  the  reader  judge  for 
himself. 

Djalma  was  sleeping  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  left  hand,  his 
head  supported  on  his  arm.  It  was  therefore  requisite  to  induce  him,  with 
waking,  to  alter  his  position  by  turning  in  a  contrary  direction ;  that  is 
to  say,  towards  the  door,  that,  in  the  event  of  his  suddenly  awaken- 
ing, his  tirst  glance  might  not  fall  on  the  Malay ;  and,  in  order  to  effect 
this,  it  was  requisite  the  latter  should  remain  some  time  in  the 
pavilion. 

Meanwhile  the  heavens  became  more  overcast,  and  the  heat  became 


124  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

intense.  All  conspired  to  prolong  the  deep  slumber  of  the  prince  and 
to  favour  the  designs  of  the  Strangler,  who,  kneeling  beside  the  young 
Indian,  passed  his  quick  fingers,  previously  rendered  soft  and  supple 
by  oiling  them,  over  the  eyelids,  forehead,  and  temples  of  Djalma, 
managing  the  operation  so  delicately  and  skilfully,  as  to  render  the 
contact  of  the  two  skins  scarcely  perceptible. 

As  the  magnetic  incantation  proceeded,  the  large  drops  of  per- 
spiration which  bedewed  the  countenance  of  the  sleeper  became  more 
abundantly  large ;  he  sighed  heavily,  and  a  convulsive  tremor  passed 
over  his  features ;  for  these  light  touches,  though  insufficient  to  break 
his  trance-like  slumber,  yet  evidently  caused  him  a  feeling  of  great  un- 
easiness and  discomfort. 

Watching  him  with  an  eager,  anxious  eye,  the  Strangler  continued 
his  mano3uvre  with  so  much  patience,  perseverance,  and  dexterity,  that 
Djalma,  whose  sleep  remained  unbroken,  unable  longer  to  endure  the 
oppressive  sensations  he  experienced  without  being  in  any  way  con- 
scious of  their  origin,  yet  restless  and  uncomfortable,  mechanically 
threw  his  right  arm  across  his  face,  as  though  to  free  himself  from  the 
annoyance  of  some  troublesome  insect  which  had  found  admission  to 
the  ajoupa,  but,  yielding  to  the  enervating  effects  of  the  heat  which 
prevailed,  his  uplifted  hand  fell  heavy  and  powerless  on  his  breast. 

Perceiving  by  this  favourable  circumstance  that  he  was  proceeding 
towards  the  full  accomplishment  of  his  design,  the  Strangler  redoubled 
his  manoeuvres  and  increased  his  applications  to  the  temples  and  fore- 
head of  his  victim ;  and  this  he  effected  with  so  much  address,  that 
Djalma,  yielding  more  and  more  to  the  drowsiness  it  inspired,  and 
having  neither  will  nor  power  sufficient  to  direct  his  hand  towards  his 
face,  mechanically  moved  his  head,  which  sunk  languidly  on  his  right 
shoulder,  as  though  seeking  by  this  change  of  position  to  escape  from 
the  disagreeable  feelings  which  surrounded  him.  This  point  achieved, 
the  Malay  now  went  boldly  to  work,  but,  anxious  to  render  the  slum- 
ber he  had  partially  disturbed  as  sound  as  possible,  he  sought  to  imi- 
tate the  deadly  practice  of  the  vampire,  which  fans  its  prey  into  the 
sleep  ending  but  in  death,  by  the  undulations  of  its  wings.  So  did 
the  Strangler  continue  gently  to  wave  and  agitate  his  hands,  with  the 
rapid  motion  of  a  fan,  over  the  burning  countenance  of  the  young 
Indian. 

At  this  delightful  and  unexpected  change  from  oppressive  heat  to 
refreshing  coolness,  the  features  of  the  prince  assumed  a  look  of  soft 
repose  and  peaceful  enjoyment ;  his  chest  expanded,  his  respiration 
became  easy  and  gentle,  while  his  half-open  lips  seemed  to  court  the 
beneficent  breeze  which  had  just  arisen  ;  and  his  sleep  became  so  much 
the  sounder,  as  it  now  was  the  result  of  perfect  ease  and  enjoyment, 
instead  of  being  (as  before)  in  a  manner  forced  and  constrained. 

A  sudden  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  leafy  screen  which  encir- 
cled the  ajoupa  ;  and  the  Malay,  fearing  that  the  noise  of  the 
accompanying  thunder  might  awaken  the  prince,  lost  not  an  instant 
in  the  fulfilment  of  his  project. 

Djalma  now  lay  extended  on  his  back,  with  his  head  on  his 
right  shoulder,  while  his  right  arm  was  extended  at  full  length.  The 
Strangler,  concealing  himself  on  the  left  side  of  the  bed,  ceased  by 
degrees  to  fan  the  prince,  and  with  incredible  dexterity  proceeded 


THE  TATTOOING.  125 

to  lift  up  the  long  white  muslin  sleeve  of  his  dress  almost  to  the 
shoulder. 

Then,  drawing  from  the  pocket  of  his  cotton  drawers  a  small  brass 
box,  he  took  from  it  a  needle  of  an  almost  indescribable  fineness  and 
sharpness,  and  a  piece  of  a  dark-looking  root,  into  which  he  plunged 
the  needle  repeatedly,  and  at  each  injection  there  issued  forth  a  white 
viscous  liquid. 

When  the  Strangler  deemed  the  needle  sufficiently  imbued  with  the 
juice  of  the  root,  he  bent  over  his  sleeping  victim,  and  blew  gently 
upon  the  internal  portion  of  Djalma's  arm,  in  order  to  induce  him 
to  extend  it  to  receive  the  additional  coolness  by  his  breath ;  then  with 
the  point  of  his  fine  needle  he  traced  on  the  arm  of  the  prince  certain 
mysterious  and  symbolical  signs  and  characters. 

All  this  was  executed  with  so  much  skill  and  quickness,  that 
Djalma  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  operation,  and  felt  not  the 
fine  and  delicate  point  of  the  instrument,  or  the  slight  puncture  it 
made  as  it  slightly  wounded  the  epidermis. 

At  first  the  marks  traced  by  the  Strangler  were  of  a  faint  pink 
colour,  so  pale  as  to  be  scarcely  visible,  and  as  fine  as  a  hair ;  but  so 
potent  and  penetrating  was  the  power  of  the  juice  into  which  the 
needle  had  been  dipped,  that,  as  it  spread  beneath  the  skin  and  mingled 
with  the  fine  veins  it  passed  over,  the  colour  deepened  by  degrees, 
until,  at  the  lapse  of  a  few  hours,  the  at  first  indistinct  and  almost 
invisible  characters  assumed  a  deep  blood-coloured  hue,  recognisable 
at  the  quickest  glance. 

The  Strangler,  having  thus  successfully  performed  his  mission, 
surveyed  the  slumbering  Indian  with  a  look  of  brutal  satisfaction,  and, 
bestowing  a  last  lingering  look  of  murderous  ferocity,  crawled  away  as 
silently  as  he  had  entered,  and,  regaining  the  opening  which  had  served 
to  admit  him  within  the  hut,  he  carefully  closed  the  aperture,  so  as  to 
effectually  prevent  any  suspicion  of  his  visit,  and  disappeared  in  the 
mazes  of  the  forest,  just  as  the  loud  thunder  began  to  peal  forth  its 
threatening  notes.* 

•  The  letters  on  India  by  the  late  Victor  Jacquemont  contain  the  following 
remarks  on  the  almost  incredible  dexterity  of  these  men.  He  says:  — 

"  They  crawl  on  the  ground  in  the  deepest  ditches,  in  the  furrows  of  the  fields, 
and  repair  any  false  step  they  may  make,  or  any  accidental  noise  they  may  occasion, 
bv  promptly  imitating  the  cry  of  a  jackal  or  some  bird  of  prey,  when  a  confederate 
will  almost  immediately  respond  by  giving  a  similar  note,  as  though  from  some  animal 
in  the  distance ;  they  annoy  the  sleeper  by  various  sounds,  by  different  modes  of 
touching  him,  and  can  always  oblige  their  victim  to  assume  the  attitude  and  position 
best  suited  to  their  designs." 

M.  le  Comte  Edward  de  Warren,  in  his  admirable  work  on  British  India,  which 
we  shall  have  further  occasion  to  quote,  thus  expresses  himself:—. 

"  These  men,"  observes  he,  "  carry  their  address  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  deprive 
you  of  the  very  sheet  on  which  you  arc  sleeping,  without  in  the  least  disturbing 
your  slumber  ;  and  this  is  not  intended  figuratively,  but  as  u  literal  fact.  The  ma- 
nagements of  the  HHEEL  are  those  of  a  wily  serpent.  Should  an  individual  be  sleep- 
ing in  bis  tent,  with  a  servant  stretched  outside  each  door  conducting  to  it,  the  Bheel 
will  crouch  down  in  the  shadow,  and  carefully  listen  to  the  respiration  of  all  within 
and  without  the  tent ;  directly  tho  European  sleeps,  he  is  sure  of  his  game  ;  he  knows 
full  well  the  Asiatic  will  not  long  resist  the  influence  of  the  drowsy  god.  At  the 
auspicious  moment  for  his  design,  he  softly  cuts  a  round  piece  from  the  covering  of 
the  tent,  sufficiently  large  to  admit  his  body,  which  he  slips  through  so  stealthily  and 
silently  as  not  to  disturb  a  single  grain  of  sand.  He  is  entirely  naked,  his  body  well 


126  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


THE  SMUGGLER. 

THE  storm  of  the  morning  had  long  since  ceased. 

The  sun  was  declining,  some  hours  having  elapsed  since  the 
Strangler  had  introduced  himself  into  the  pavilion  of  Djalma,  and 
tattooed  him  with  the  mysterious  sign  during  his  slumber. 

A  cavalier  was  advancing  rapidly  in  the  midst  of  a  long  avenue 
bordered  with  thickly  growing  trees. 

Sheltered  by  this  thick  vault  of  verdure,  a  thousand  birds  hailed,  by 
their  warblings  and  their  joyous  twitterings,  this  glorious  evening; 
green  and  red  parrots  climbed  with  beak  and  claws  to  the  tops  of  the 
rare  acacias ;  the  maina-mainon,  a  large  bird  with  bright  blue  plumage, 
and  with  thin  long  necks  and  tails  of  burnished  gold,  pursued  the 
lories,  black  like  velvet,  shaded  with  orange  colour ;  the  turtle-doves 
of  Kolo,  of  a  rainbow  violet  colour,  cooed  loudly  beside  the  birds  of 
paradise,  whose  brilliant  feathers  united  the  prismatic  tints  of  the 
emerald,  ruby,  topaz,  and  sapphire. 

This  avenue,  which  was  rising  ground,  terminated  with  a  small 
lake,  on  whose  surface,  here  and  there,  dipped  the  green  shadows  of 
the  tamarind  and  the  tatupa  trees,  whilst  the  water,  calm  and  clear, 
shewed,  as  though  incrusted  in  a  mass  of  dark-blue  crystal  (so  motion- 
less were  they),  silver  fish,  with  fins  of  purple  and  gold ;  fish  with  fins 
of  scarlet,  all  immobile  on  the  top  of  the  lake,  on  which  gleamed  a 
dazzling  sunbeam,  which  seemed  to  enjoy  the  light  and  warmth  that  were 
diffused  amongst  them  ;  a  thousand  insects,  living  jewels  with  \vings 
of  fire,  glided,  dived,  flew,  and  buzzed  in  this  transparent  mirror,  which 
reflected,  to  a  vast  depth,  the  variegated  shades  of  foliage  and  aquatic 
plants  with  which  the  banks  were  overgrown. 

It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  entire  or  part  of  this  exuberance  of 
nature,  so  luxuriant  with  colours,  perfumes  and  sunlight,  and  serving, 
as  we  might  say,  for  the  frame  to  the  picture  of  the  youthful  horseman 
at  the  end  of  the  avenue. 

It  was  Djalma. 

He  had  not  yet  perceived  that  the  Strangler  had  traced  on  his  left 
arm  certain  ineffaceable  marks. 

His  Javanese  steed,  of  moderate  size,  was  full  of  fire  and  vigour, 
and  black  as  midnight.  A  piece  of  scarlet  cloth  formed  the  saddle, 

oiled,  and  a  small  poignard  suspended  round  his  neck.  Crouching  down  beside  the 
bed,  he,  with  a  coolness  and  dexterity  almost  passing  belief,  begins  folding  the  sheet 
on  which  the  sleeper  is  extended,  in  h'ne  folds  close  to  the  body  lying  on  it ;  then, 
passing  to  the  other  side  of  the  couch,  he  commences  a  series  of  magnetic  touches  and 
light  tickling,  to  avoid  which  the  sleeper  instinctively  draws  himself  awav,  and  ulti- 
mately turns  completely  round,  leaving  the  sheet  nt  the  mercy  of  his  enemy should 

he  awake,  and  endeavour  to  seize  the  intruder,  he  grasps  but  a  naked  oiled  body, 
which  slips  from  his  hold  like  an  eel ;  but  if  he  unhappily  succeed  in  holding  him, 
then  the  dagger  of  the  assassin  is  plunged  in  his  heart,  and  while  ho  falls  a  corpse  to 
the  ground,  his  murderer  escapes  unobserved  and  undetected. 


THE  SMUGGLER.  127 

and,  to  restrain  the  impetuosity  of  his  spirited  mare,  Djalma  made  use 
of  a  light  bit  of  steel,  whose  reins  of  scarlet-twisted  silk  were  light  as  a 
thread. 

None  of  those  horsemen  so  admirably  ensculptured  on  the  frieze 
of  the  Parthenon  is  more  gracefully  and  proudly  mounted  than  was 
this  young  Indian,  whose  fine  countenance,  lighted  up  by  the  rays  of 
the  setting  sun,  was  full  of  happiness  and  tranquillity.  His  eye 
sparkled  with  delight ;  his  nostrils  were  dilated  ;  his  lips  half  opened, 
as  he  inspired  with  freedom  the  perfumed  breeze  of  the  flowers  and 
scented  shrubs,  the  more  delicious  as  coming  after  the  heavy  rain 
which  had  succeeded  the  mid-day  storm.  A  crimson  cap,  resembling 
the  Greek  head-dress,  covered  the  black  hair  of  Djalnm,  and  brought 
out  the  golden  hue  of  his  complexion.  His  neck  was  bare,  and  he 
was  clad  in  his  muslin  caftan,  with  wide  sleeves  girdled  by  a  scarlet 
band  ;  his  drawers  were  full,  and  of  white  tissue,  reaching  just  below 
the  knees,  leaving  his  rounded  and  polished  legs  half  naked,  whilst 
their  graceful  contour,  quite  a  I'antique,  was  seen  pressed  against  his 
horse's  sides;  those  powerful  limbs  preserving  his  seat,  as  he  had  no 
stirrups  j  his  small  and  narrow  foot  bearing  a  sandal  of  red  morocco 
leather. 

The  variation  of  his  fancies,  by  turns  impetuous  and  restrained, 
were  exhibited  in  the  paces  which  his  horse  displayed — sometimes 
bold  and  rapid,  as  if  his  imagination  had  thrown  away  its  reins — and 
then  calm  and  deliberate,  as  though  reflection  had  succeeded  to 
impetuosity. 

In  this  wayward  course  his  erery  movement  was  replete  with  a 
proud,  independent,  and  wild  grace. 

Djalma,  dispossessed  of  his  paternal  territory  by  the  English,  and 
at  first  imprisoned  after  his  father's  death,  who  had  been  killed  in 
battle  (as  M.  Joshua  Van  Dae'l  wrote  from  Batavia  to  M.  Rodin),  had 
been  subsequently  set  at  liberty. 

Then,  leaving  continental  India,  accompanied  by  General  Simon, 
who  had  not  quitted  the  environs  of  the  prison  which  contained  the 
son  of  his  old  friend  the  king  Kadja-Sing,  the  young  Indian  came  to 
Batavia,  the  place  of  his  mother's  birth,  to  obtain  possession  of  the 
modest  inheritance;  of  his  maternal  ancestors. 

In  this  inheritance,  so  long  disdained  or  forgotten  by  his  father, 
were  found  many  important  papers,  and  the  medal  resembling  that 
worn  by  Rose  and  Blanche. 

General  Simon,  surprised  as  well  as  charmed  at  this  discovery, 
which  not  only  established  a  bond  of  relationship  between  his  wife  and 
the  mother  of  Djalma,  but  seemed  to  hold  out  such  great  advantages 
to  the  latter  hereafter,  leaving  Djalma  at  Batavia  to  conclude  certain 
affairs  of  business,  had  gone  to  Sumatra,  a  neighbouring  island,  where 
he  hoped  to  find  a  ship  going  straight  and  speedily  to  Europe ;  for  it 
was  necessary,  at  all  hazards,  that  the  young  Indian  should  be  in. 
Paris  on  the  13th  of  February,  18J32.  If  he  should  find  such  a  vessel, 
he  was  to  return  instantly  to  find  Djalma,  who  was  waiting  his  arrival 
daily,  and  was  then  going  to  the  pier  of  Batavia  in  the  hopes  of  seeing 
the  father  of  Rose  and  Blanche  arrive  by  the  packet  from  Sumatra. 

A  few  words  on  the  infancy  and  youth  of  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing 
are  necessary. 


128  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Having  lost  his  mother  when  he  was  very  young,  he  was  simply 
and  rudely  brought  up,  and  as  a  child  had  accompanied  his  father  to 
the  great  tiger-hunts,  as  dangerous  as  battles ;  and,  hardly  a  youth,  he 
had  followed  his  parent  to  the  wars  undertaken  in  defence  of  his 
territory,  fierce  and  bloody  as  those  wars  were. 

Having  thus  lived,  since  his  mother's  death,  in  the  depths  of  forests 
and  his  paternal  mountains,  where,  in  the  midst  of  incessant  combat, 
his  vigorous  and  ingenuous  nature  had  preserved  itself  pure  and 
intact,  never  was  the  surname  of  Generous  more  fitly  bestowed. 
Prince,  he  was  really  a  prince —  a  rare  occurrence ;  and,  during  the 
time  of  his  captivity,  he  had  won  the  favour  of  his  English  gaolers  by 
his  calm  and  uncomplaining  dignity :  no  reproach,  no  lament,  escaped 
his  lips  ;  he  maintained  a  proud,  but  not  sullen  demeanour,  and  never 
changed  his  mood  until  the  moment  when  he  was  set  free. 

Accustomed  until  then  to  a  patriarchal  existence,  or  a  warrior  in 
the  mountain  holds  of  his  native  land,  which  he  had  left  only  to  pass 
a  few  months  in  prison,  Djalma  knew  actually  nothing  of  civilised 
life. 

But,  without  positively  having  defects,  Djalma  pushed  the  qualities 
of  his  mind  to  extremes;  of  an  inflexible  obstinacy  as  to  his  pledged 
word,  devoted  to  death  itself,  blindly  confiding,  good  to  a  perfect 
forgetfulness  of  self,  he  was  inflexible  towards  any  one  who  would 
prove  himself  an  ingrate,  liar,  or  a  traitor  —  he  would  have  displayed 
summary  justice  towards  perjury  or  disloyalty,  because,  had  he  himself 
been  foresworn  or  treacherous,  he  would  have  deemed  his  life  the  just 
forfeit. 

He  was,  in  a  word,  a  man  whose  feelings  were  uncompromising 
and  in  full  integrity.  Such  an  one,  opposed  to  the  arrangements,  cal- 
culations, falsenesses,  deceits,  tricks,  restrictions,  and  hypocrisy  of  very 
refined  society — that  of  Paris,  for  instance — would  have  been  a  perfect 
study  for  a  philosopher. 

We  advance  this  hypothesis,  because,  since  his  journey  from  Java 
to  France  had  been  decided  on,  Djalma  had  but  one  fixed,  constant, 
and  concentrated  thought — to  be  at  Paris. 

At  Paris,  that  fairy  city,  of  which,  even  in  Asia,  that  fairy  land 
was  discoursed  of  in  such  glowing  terms. 

What  especially  inflamed  the  young  and  heated  imagination  of  the 
young  Indian  was  the  French  women — the  Parisiennes — so  lovely,  so 
winning  —  such  marvels  of  elegance,  grace,  and  fascination,  who 
eclipsed  (as  the  Asiatics  said)  the  magnificence  of  the  capital  of  the 
civilised  world. 

At  this  moment,  during  this  splendid  and  glowing  evening,  sur- 
rounded by  flowers  and  delicious  perfumes,  Djalma  was  thinking  of 
those  enchanting  creatures  whom  his  fancy  clothed  in  his  own  brightest 
hues. 

He  seemed  to  see  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  in  the  midst  of  the 
sheet  of  golden  light,  which  the  trees  encased  in  their  frame  of  tufted 
verdure,  lovely  and  entrancing  forms,  graceful  and  captivating  figures, 
who  smiled  upon  him,  and  sent  kisses  to  him  from  the  tops  of  their 
rosy  fingers ! 

No  longer  able  to  contain  himself,  and  carried  away  by  the  heat  of 
his  imagination  at  features  so  lovely,  Djalma  uttered  a  deep  and 


MAHAL    AND    DJALMA. 


London  :  Chapman  ami  Hall.     June  I.  I-.4.'. 


THE  SMUGGLER.  '2 

almost  savage  note  of  joy ;  and,  at  the  same  moment,  his  beautiful 
steed  bounded  in  the  air,  as  though  participating  in  his  ecstasy. 

A  piercing  sun-ray  darted  at  this  moment  through  the  sombre 
vault  of  the  alley,  and  lighted  it  all  up. 

For  some  minutes  a  man  had  been  advancing  quickly  along  a  path 
which,  at  its  extremity,  cut  diagonally  the  avenue  in  which  Djalma  was. 

The  man  stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  shade,  contemplating  Djalma 
with  astonishment. 

It  was  indeed  charming  to  see,  in  the  midst  of  this  radiant  glow  of 
light,  a  young  man  so  handsome,  so  full  of  fire,  so  joyous,  with  his 
white  and  flowing  raiment,  so  gracefully  seated  on  his  proud  black 
steed,  who  covered  with  foam  his  red  bridle,  and  whose  long  tail  and 
thick  mane  flowed  in  the  evening  wind. 

But,  by  a  contrast  which  follows  all  human  desires,  Djalma  soon 
felt  the  return  of  an  indefinable  and  subduing  melancholy,  and,  lifting 
his  hand  to  his  moist  and  downcast  eyes,  let  fall  his  reins  on  the  neck 
of  the  fine-tempered  animal  that  bore  him. 

The  horse  stopped  instantly,  stretched  out  his  swan-like  neck,  and 
turned  his  head  half  towards  the  individual  whom  he  saw  in  the  path. 

This  man  was  called  Mahal  the  Smuggler,  and  he  was  dressed  like 
an  European  sailor,  with  a  jacket  and  trousers  of  white  linen,  a  wide 
red  girdle,  and  a  straw  hat,  very  wide  in  the  brim ;  his  countenance 
was  tanned  and  strongly  marked,  but,  although  he  was  forty  years  old, 
he  was  entirely  beardless. 

"  What  seek  you  ?  "  said  the  Indian. 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing  ?  " 

"  Again  I  say,  what  seek  you  ?" 

"  The  friend  of  General  Simon." 

"  General  Simon ! "  exclaimed  Djalma. 

"  You  were  going  to  meet  him,  as  you  do  every  evening  since  you 
expected  him  from  Sumatra  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  how  know  you  that  ?  "  said  the  Indian,  looking  at  the 
smuggler  with  surprise  and  curiosity. 

"  He  ought  to  reach  Batavia  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

"  Do  you  come  from  him  ?  " 

"  Perchance  I  may,"  said  Mahal,  with  a  distrustful  air.  "  But 
are  you  really  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing  ?  " 

"  I  am,  I  tell  you.     But  when  did  you  sec  General  Simon  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing,"  replied  Mahal,  still  looking 
at  Djalma  with  a  suspicious  eye,  "  what  is  your  surname  ?  " 

"  They  called  my  father  '  The  Father  of  the  Generous,'"  replied  the 
young  Indian  ;  and  a  shade  of  sadness  stole  over  his  handsome  features. 

These  words  appeared  to  begin  to  convince  Mahal  of  the  identity 
of  Djalma ;  however,  as  he  was  anxious  to  be  well  assured,  he  replied, 

"  You  should  have  received,  two  days  ago,  a  letter  from  General 
Simon,  written  from  Sumatra  ?  " 

"  I  did  ;  but  why  those  questions  ?  " 

"  That  I  may  be  quite  certain  that  you  are  the  son  of  Kadja-Sing* 
and  then  I  will  execute  the  orders  I  have  received," 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  From  General  Simon." 

"  But  where  is  he  ?  " 

9  K 


130  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  When  I  am  certain  that  you  are  the  Prince  Djalma,  I  will  tell  you. 
I  was  informed  that  you  would  be  mounted  on  a  black  horse  with  red 
housings  ;  but " 

"  By  my  mother's  shade !  will  you  speak  ?  " 

"  I  will  say  ever,y  thing,  if  you  tell  me  what  printed  paper  there 
was  inclosed  in  the  last  letter  which  General  Simon  sent  you  from 
Sumatra?" 

"  It  was  an  extract  from  a  French  newspaper." 

"  And  did  it  announce  good  or  bad  news  for  the  general  ?" 

"  Good  news  ;  for  it  stated  that,  during  his  absence,  the  title  and 
rank  which  the  emperor  had  last  conferred  upon  him  had  been  recog- 
nised and  confirmed,  and  that  the  same  recognition  had  taken  place 
with  respect  to  all  his  brothers  in  arms  exiled  as  well  as  himself." 

"  Now  I  am  sure  you  are  the  Prince  Djalma,"  said  the  smuggler, 
after  a  moment's  reflection  ;  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all.  General  Simon 
landed  last  night  at  Java,  but  in  a  desert  spot  on  the  other  side." 

"  In  a  desert  spot  ?  " 

"  That  he  might  be  concealed." 

"  He,"  exclaimed  Djalma,  in  great  surprise,  "conceal  himself  1  — 
and  why  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  But  where  is  he  ?  "  said  Djalma,  with  increased  anxiety. 

"  Three  leagues  off,  on  the  sea-shore,  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi." 

"  He  forced  to  conceal  himself ! "  repeated  Djalma,  whose  coun- 
tenance was  expressive  of  deep  alarm  and  anxiety. 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  think  he  was  engaged  in  some  duel  in  Su- 
matra," said  the  smuggler,  with  an  air  of  mystery. 

"  A  duel !  and  with  whom  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  about  it.  But  you  know 
the  ruins  of  Tchandi  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  Well,  the  general  awaits  you  there,  and  desired  me  to  bring 
you  word." 

"  You  then  have  come  from  Sumatra  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  the  pilot  of  the  little  smuggling  coaster  from  which  he 
landed  last  night  on  the  lone  shore.  He  knew  that  you  came  every  day 
to  look  for  him  on  the  road  to  the  Mole,  and  I  was  sure  to  meet  with 
you.  He  gave  me  the  particulars  about  the  last  letter  you  received 
from  him,  and  which  I  have  mentioned  to  you  that  you  might  know  I 
came  from  him ;  if  he  could  have  written  to  you,  he  would  have  done  so." 

"  And  he  did  not  say  why  he  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself?" 

"  Not  a  word  to  me.  But,  from  something  that  fell,  I  suspect,  as 
I  told  you,  that  there  was  a  duel." 

Knowing  the  quick  temper  and  high  courage  of  General  Simon, 
Djalma  thought  the  suspicions  of  the  smuggler  were  very  probable. 

After  a  moment's  silence  he  said  to  him, 

"  Can  you  lead  my  horse  back  for  me  ?  My  house  is  outside  the 
city — down  there — hidden  by  the  trees,  near  the  new  mosque.  My 
horse  would  be  an  obstacle  in  going  up  the  mountain  of  Tchandi ; — 
I  would  reach  it  quicker  on  foot." 

"  I  know  very  well  where  you  live,  for  General  Simon  told  me,  and  I 
should  have  gone  on  to  you  had  we  not  met  here.  Give  me  your  horse." 


M.  JOSHUA    VAN    DAEL. 
P.    131. 


I..-U.I..M.  Chapman  ami  Hall.     March  I,  IH4'< 


M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL.  131 

Djalma  leaped  lightly  down,  threw  the  bridle  to  Mahal,  unrolled 
one  end  of  his  girdle,  and  taking  out  a  small  silk  purse  gave  it  to  the 
smuggler,  saying, 

"  You  are  faithful  and  obedient — there,  it  is  not  much,  but  I  have 
no  more." 

"  Kadja-Sing  was  well  named  '  The  Father  of  the  Generous?  "  said 
the  smuggler,  bowing  respectfully  and  gratefully  ;  and  he  took  the 
route  which  led  to  Batavia,  leading  Djalma's  courser  by  his  bridle. 

The  young  Indian  turned  down  the  path,  and,  walking  with  great 
speed,  bent  his  steps  towards  the  mountains  where  the  ruins  of 
Tchandi  were,  but  which  he  could  not  reach  before  night. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

M.    JOSHUA    VAN     DAEL. 

M.  JOSHUA  VAN  DAEL,  a  Dutch  merchant,  correspondent  of  M.  Ro- 
din, was  born  at  Batavia  (capital  of  the  island  of  Java).  His  parents 
had  sent  him  to  be  educated  at  Pondicherry,  in  a  celebrated  religious 
house  long  established  in  that  city,  and  belonging  to  the  Society  of 
Jesus.  He  was  then  affiliated  to  the  community  as  a.  professed  of  three 
rows,  or  lay  member,  commonly  styled  temporal  coadjutor. 

M.  Joshua  was  a  man  whose  probity  was  considered  perfect ;  he 
was  extremely  exact  and  punctilious  in  all  matters ;  cold,  discreet,  im- 
penetrable, and  of  singular  skill  and  sagacity.  His  financial  operations 
were  almost. always  successful,  for  a  protecting  power  gave  him,  from 
time  to  time,  a  knowledge  of  events  which  had  the  control  of  vast  com- 
mercial transactions.  The  religious  house  of  Pondicherry  was  inte- 
rested in  his  business,  and  entrusted  to  him  the  exportation  and 
exchange  of  the  produce  of  many  extensive  estates  which  it  possessed 
in  this  colony. 

Speaking  seldom,  listening  always,  never  discussing,  exceedingly 
affable,  giving  little,  but  with  care  and  discretion,  M.  Joshua  inspired, 
in  the  absence  of  sympathy,  that  cold  respect  which  men  of  his  cha- 
racter usually  inspire.  Instead  of  yielding  to  the  influence  of  colonial 
manners,  so  often  libertine  and  dissolute,  he  appeared  to  live  with  great 
regularity,  and  his  exterior  presented  an  austere  appearance,  which 
imposed  on  the  world  at  large. 

The  following  scene  was  passing  in  Batavia  whilst  Djalma  was  on 
his  way  to  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  General 
Simon  there. 

M.  Joshua  had  just  entered  his  private  closet,  where  were  rows  of 
shelves  piled  with  memorandum-cases  and  large  ledgers,  and  cash- 
books  open  on  the  desks. 

The  only  window  of  this  closet,  situated  on  the  ground-floor, 
looked  on  a  small  empty  court-yard,  and  was  protected  from  without 
by  thick  iron  bars,  whilst  a  movable  blind  was  substituted  for  panes 
of  glass,  in  consequence  of  the  great  heat  of  the  climate  of  Java. 


132  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Joshua,  having  placed  on  his  desk  a  wax-light  enclosed  in  a  glass 
shade,  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  Half-past  nine  o'clock,"  said  lie  ;  "  Mahal  will  soon  be  here." 

So  saying,  he  went  out,  crossed  an  antechamber,  and,  opening  a 
second  thick  door,  strengthened  with  large-headed  nails,  he  entered 
the  little  court-yard  with  much  precaution,  that  he  might  not  be 
heard  by  the  people  of  his  establishment,  and  then  drew  back  the 
secret  bolt  which  fastened  a  folding-door  with  a  large  bar  six  feet 
long,  and  defended  by  plates  of  iron. 

Leaving  this  open  he  returned  to  his  cabinet,  after  having  succes- 
sively and  carefully  closed  after  him  all  the  other  doors. 

Joshua  then  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and  took  from  a  drawer 
a  long  letter,  or  rather  memoir,  begun  some  time  back,  and  written 
day  by  day.  (It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  this  letter,  addressed  to 
M.  Rodin,  at  Paris,  in  the  Rue  du  Milieu-des-Ursins,  was  anterior  to 
the  liberation  of  Djalma  and  his  arrival  at  Batavia.) 

The  memoir  in  question  was  also  addressed  to  M.  Rodin,  and  thus 
did  M.  Joshua  continue  it : — 

"  Fearing  the  return  of  General  Simon,  about  whom  I  had  been 
instructed  by  intercepting  his  letters — (I  have  already  said  that  I  had 
contrived  to  have  myself  appointed  as  his  agent  and  correspondent) — 
letters  which  I  read,  and  then  forwarded,  apparently  untouched,  to 
Djalma,  I  have  been  compelled,  by  time  and  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances, to  have  recourse  to  extreme  means,  at  the  same  time  that  I 
have  altogether  preserved  appearances,  and  rendered  signal  service  to 
humanity  :  this  latter  reason  especially  decided  me. 

"  A  new  danger,  moreover,  imperiously  ruled  my  conduct.  The 
steam-boat,  The  Ruyter,  reached  here  yesterday,  and  sails  to-morrow. 

"  This  vessel  goes  to  Europe  by  the  Arabian  Gulf;  her  passengers 
disembark  at  the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  which  they  cross,  and  at  Alexan- 
dria they  take  another  vessel,  which  conveys  them  to  France. 

"  This  journey,  as  rapid  as  it  is  direct,  only  occupies  seven  or 
eight  weeks :  this  is  the  end  of  October,  and  Prince  Djalma  might, 
therefore,  reach  France  about  the  beginning  of  the  month  of  January  ; 
and  after  your  instructions  (the  cause  of  which  I  am  ignorant  of,  but 
which  I  execute  with  zeal  and  submission)  it  was  requisite,  at  all 
hazards,  to  prevent  his  departure ;  as  you  told  me  one  of  the  gravest 
interests  of  our  society  would  be  thereby  compromised  by  the  arrival 
of  this  young  Indian  at  Paris  before  the  13th  of  February.  If  I  suc- 
ceed, as  I  hope  and  believe,  in  making  him  miss  the  Ruyter,  it  will  be 
absolutely  impossible  that  he  can  reach  France  before  the  month  of 
April,  for  the  Ruytcr  is  the  only  vessel  which  makes  this  quick  and 
direct  route,  all  the  other  ships  being  from  four  to  five  months  in 
reaching  Europe. 

"  Before  I  tell  you  the  means  I  have  been  forced  to  use  to  retain 
Prince  Djalraa  here — means,  of  which  at  this  moment  I  do  not  know 
the  result,  good  or  bad,  I  should  tell  you  a  few  facts. 

"  There  has  been  discovered,  in  Anglo-India,  a  community  whose 
members  called  themselves  Brothers  of  the  Good  Work,  or  Phansegars, 
which  simply  means  Stranglers  ;  these  murderers  do  not  shed  blood — 
they  strangle  their  victims,  less  to  rob  them  than  to  obey  a  homicidal 
vocation  and  the  laws  of  an  infernal  deity,  called  by  them  Bohwanie. 


M.  JOSEPH  VAN  DAEL.  133 

"  I  cannot  give  yftu  a  better  idea  of  this  horrible  sect  than  by 
transcribing  a  tew  lines  of  the  introduction  to  Colonel  Sleeman's 
report,  who  has  tracked  and  followed  up  this  murderous  confrater- 
nity with  indefatigable  zeal.  The  report  was  published  two  months 
ago  :  this  is  the  extract,  and  the  colonel  himself  speaks  : — 

"  '  From  1822  to  1824,  when  I  was  charged  with  the  magistracy  and 
civil  administration  of  the  district  ofNcrsi  ngpour,  there  was  not  a  murder, 
or  the  smallest  theft  by  a  common  bandit,  but  I  was  instantly  informed  of 
it.  And  if  any  one  had  come  and  told  me,  at  this  time,  that  a  band  of 
assassins,  by  profession  and  inheritance,  lived  in  the  village  of  Kunddia, 
about  four  miles  at  most  from  my  court  of  justice  ;  that  the  lovely  groves 
of  the  village  oj  Mundesoor,  a  days  march  from  my  residence,  was  one 
of  the  most  fearful  centres  of  assassination  in  all  India  ;  that  vast  bands 
of  '  the  Brothers  of  the  Good  IVorh,'  coming  from  Indostan  and  the 
Dehan,  annually  met  in  these  thickets,  as  at  a  solemn  festival,  to  carry 
on  their  infernal  calling  on  every  road  and  bye-path  which  crossed  this 
locality,  I  should  have  taken  my  informant  for  a  madman,  who  had 
been  alarmed  at  some  silly  invention  :  yet  nothing  was  more  true,  for 
travellers  by  hundreds  were  every  year  interred  in  the  groves  of  Mun- 
desoor :  a  whole  tribe  of  assassins  lived  at  my  very  door  whilst  I  teas 
.supreme  magistrate  of  the  province,  and  extended  their  butcheries  to  the 
cities  of  Poonah  and  Hyderabad  ! 

"  '  /  shall  never  forget  that,  to  convince  me,  one  of  the  Strangler 
chiefs,  who  had  denounced  his  associates,  exhumed,  from  the  very  spot 
on  which  I  had  pitched  my  tent,  thirteen  carcasses,  and  offered  to  dig  up 
from  the  soil  all  around  an  unlimited  number.1* 

"  These  few  lines  from  Colonel  Sleeman's  report  will  give  you 
some  idea  of  this  terrible  society,  whose  laws,  duties,  and  customs,  are 
wholly  at  variance  with  all  laws,  human  and  divine.  Devoted  to  one 
another,  even  to  heroism,  blindly  subservient  to  their  chiefs,  who 
style  themselves  the  immediate  representatives  of  their  dark  divinity, 
considering  as  foes  all  who  are  not  united  with  them,  adding  to  their 
numbers  in  all  quarters  by  a  fearful  system  of  proselytism,  these 
apostles  of  a  religion  of  murder  go  about  preaching  in  secresy  their 
abominable  doctrines,  and  inclosing  India  in  a  vast  net. 

"  Three  of  their  principal  chiefs  and  one  of  their  adepts,  flying 
from  the  hot  pursuit  of  the  English  governor,  which  they  contrived 
to  elude,  had  reached  the  northern  point  of  India  at  the  Straits  of 
Malacca,  which  is  but  a  short  distance  from  Java.  A  smuggler  and 
pirate,  affiliated  with  them  and  named  Mahal,  took  them  on  board 
his  coasting  bark,  and  conveyed  them  hither,  where,  for  some  time, 
they  believed  themselves  in  safety,  for,  according  to  the  smuggler's 
advice,  they  took  refuge  in  a  thick  forest,  in  which  are  several 
ruined  temples,  whose  numerous  caverns  afford  them  a  shelter. 

"  Amongst  these  chiefs,  all  three  of  remarkable  intelligence,  is  one 
particularly,  Faringhea  by  name,  who  is  a  man  of  extraordinary 
energy,  and  of  qualities  so  superior  as  to  make  him  a  man  to  be 
feared.  He  is  a  Metis,  that  is,  the  son  of  a  white  father  and  Indian 
mother.  He  has  dwelt  long  in  cities  where  Europeans  have  con- 

*  This  extract  is  from  the  excellent  work  of  M.  le'Comte  Edward  de  Warren  on 
British  India,  in 


134  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

ducted  business,  and  speaks  English  and  Frencft  very  well ;  the  other 
two  chiefs  are  a  Negro  and  an  Indian :  the  adept  is  a  Malay. 

"  Mahal,  the  smuggler,  thinking  that  he  might  obtain  a  good  re- 
ward by  betraying  these  three  chiefs  and  their  disciple,  came  to  me, 
knowing,  as  all  the  world  knows,  my  extreme  intimacy  with  a  person 
who  is  most  influential  with  our  governor,  and  offered,  two  days  since, 
on  certain  conditions,  to  deliver  up  the  Negro,  the  Me"tis,  the  In- 
dian, and  the  Malay.  His  conditions  were,  a  considerable  sum  of 
money,  and  the  guarantee  of  a  passage  on  board  some  ship  going  to 
Europe  or  America,  in  order  to  escape  from  the  implacable  vengeance 
of  the  Stranglers. 

"  I  instantly  seized  on  this  opportunity  of  delivering  up  to  human 
justice  these  three  murderers,  and  I  promised  Mahal  that  I  would  in- 
tercede for  him  with  the  governor,  on  certain  conditions  on  my  side, 
very  innocent  in  themselves,  but  concerning  Djalma.  I  will  tell  you 
iny  project  at  length  if  it  be  successful,  which  I  shall  soon  know,  as  I 
expect  Mahal  here  almost  immediately. 

"  Waiting  until  I  close  my  despatches,  which  will  go  to-morrow  for 
Europe  by  the  Ruyter,  on  board  of  which  I  shall  pay  for  Mahafs 
passage,  if  he  is  successful,  I  will  advert  to  another  subject  which  is 
very  important. 

"  In  my  last  letter,  in  which  I  told  you  of  the  death  of  Djalma's 
father  and  the  young  man's  imprisonment  by  the  English,  I  requested 
information  as  to  the  solvency  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  a  banker  and 
manufacturer  at  Paris,  who  has  a  branch-establishment  at  Calcutta. 
Now  this  information  is  no  longer  requisite  to  me  if  what  I  learn  is 
unfortunately  true,  and,  in  that  case,  you  will  act  accordingly. 

"  His  house  at  Calcutta  owes  us,  t.  e.  to  me  and  our  college  at 
Pondicherry,  very  large  sums  of  money,  and  I  am  informed  that  M. 
Tripeaud's  affairs  are  in  a  most  embarrassed  and  ruinous  condition. 
Desirous  of  establishing  a  concern  which  should  ruin,  by  its  unrelent- 
ing rivalry,  an  immense  business,  long  since  commenced  by  M. 
Francois  Hardy,  a  most  extensive  manufacturer,  I  learn  that  M.  Tri- 
peaud has  already  sunk  vast  capital  in  his  undertaking,  and  lost  it  all. 
He  has,  no  doubt,  done  M.  Hardy  considerable  harm,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  he  has  greatly  injured  his  own  property,  and  if  he  fails,  his 
disaster  will  be  greatly  detrimental  to  us,  as  he  owes  us  and  our  clients 
very  considerable  sums  of  money. 

"In  this  state  of  things  it  would  be  very  desirable  that  all  possible 
means  in  our  power  should  be  employed  and  directed  to  shake  and  in- 
jure the  credit  of  the  house  of  Francois  Hardy,  already  hurt  by  the 
fierce  opposition  of  M.  Tripeaud.  If  this  combination  could  be  made 
to  operate,  M.  Tripeaud  might,  in  a  short  time,  recover  all  he  has 
lost,  assure  the  ruin  of  his  rival,  which  would  be  his  own  making,  and 
our  debts  would  thus  be  paid. 

"  No  doubt  it  would  be  most  painful — deeply  grievous,  to  be  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  such  an  extremity  to  recover  our  monies ;  but,  in 
these  days,  are  we  not  authorised  to  use  means  which  are  incessantly 
employed  against  us  ?  If  we  are  driven  to  this  by  the  injustice  and 
wickedness  of  men,  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  the  distressing  task  by 
the  reflection,  that  if  we  strive  to  recover  and  preserve  our  earthly 


M.  JOSEPH  VAN  OAEL.  135 

possessions,  it  is  all  for  the  greater  glory  of  God,  whilst,  in  the  hands 
of  our  enemies,  these  goods  are  but  dangerous  means  to  perdition  and 
scandal. 

"  This  is  but  a  proposal,  which  I  humbly  submit  to  you ;  if  I  had 
the  power  in  my  own  hands  of  taking  the  initiative  on  the  subject  of 
these  credits,  I  should  do  nothing  of  myself —  my  will  is  not  my  own  ; 
with  all  I  possess  it  belongs  to  those  to  whom  I  have  sworn  a  blind 
obedience." 

A  slight  noise  without  interrupted  M.  Joshua  Van  Dae'l,  and  at- 
tracted his  attention. 

He  rose  quickly,  and  went  to  the  window. 

Three  gentle  taps  were  struck  from  without  on  one  of  the  blinds. 

"  Is  it  you,  Mahal?"  inquired  Joshua,  in  a  subdued  voice. 

"  It  is,"  was  the  reply  from  without,  and  in  a  suppressed  tone. 

"And  the  Malay?"" 

"  Has  succeeded." 

"  Really  ?  "  exclaimed  M.  Joshua,  in  a  tone  of  deep  satisfaction, — 
"  are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure.  There  never  was  devil  more  skilful  and  more 
daring." 

"And  Djalma?" 

"  The  passages  from  General  Simon's  last  letter,  which  I  quoted  to 
him,  convinced  him  that  I  came  from  the  general,  and  that  he  would 
find  him  at  the  ruins  of  Tchandi." 

"  So,  then,  at  this  moment " 

"  Djalma  is  at  the  ruins,  where  he  will  find  the  Black,  the  M6tis, 
and  the  Indian.  They  appointed  the  spot  as  a  rendezvous  for  the 
Malay  after  he  had  tattooed  the  prince  during  his  sleep." 

"  Have  you  reconnoitred  the  subterranean  passage?" 

"  I  went  yesterday.  One  of  the  stones  of  the  pedestal  of  the 
statue  turns  on  a  pivot ;  the  staircase  is  wide,  and  will  do  very  well." 

"  And  the  three  chiefs  have  no  suspicion  of  you  ?" 

"  None.  I  saw  them  this  morning,  and  this  evening  the  Malay 
came  and  told  me  all  before  he  went  to  rejoin  them  in  the  ruins  of 
Tchandi ;  for  he  was  obliged  to  remain  concealed  in  the  bushes,  not 
daring  to  venture  during  the  daylight." 

"  Mahal,  if  you  have  told  me  the  truth,  if  all  succeeds,  your  par- 
don and  a  handsome  reward  will  be  yours.  Your  place  is  bespoke  on 
board  the  Ruyter  ;  you  will  go  to-morrow,  and  thus  be  out  of  reach 
of  the  Stranglers'  revenge,  who  would  else  pursue  you  to  death  to 
avenge  their  chiefs.  Since  Providence  has  selected  you  to  deliver  these 
three  great  criminals  to  justice,  God  will  bless  you.  Go  now  and 
await  me  at  the  governor's  gate  ;  I  will  introduce  you  to  his  excel- 
lency, for  such  important  matters  are  now  concerned,  that  I  shall 
not  hesitate  to  go  and  awaken  him,  although  it  is  midnight.  Go 
quickly,  and  I  will  follow." 

There  were  then  heard  the  rapid  steps  of  Mahal,  as  he  precipi- 
tately departed,  and  all  was  silent. 

Joshua  returned  to  his  desk,  and  added  these  words  hastily  to  his 
long  memoir. 

"  Whatever  happens,  it  is  now  impossible  that  Djalma  can  quit 


106  THK  WANDERING  JEW. 

Batavia.  Be  assured  that  he  will  not  be  in  Paris  on  the  thirteenth  of 
February  next  year. 

"  As  I  foresaw,  I  shall  be  on  foot  all  night.  I  am  now  going  to 
the  governor.  To-morrow  I  will  add  a  few  words  to  this  long  me- 
moir, which  the  steam-boat,  the  Ruyter  will  convey  to  Europe." 

After  having  closed  his  secretaire,  Joshua  rang  his  bell  loudly, 
and,  to  the  great  surprise  of  his  establishment  at  seeing  him  go  out  so 
late  at  night,  went  away  with  a  rapid  pace  to  the  governor  of  the 
island. 

We  now  conduct  our  reader  to  the  ruins  of  Tchandi. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  RUINS  OP  TCHANDI. 

THE  storm  in  the  middle  of  the  day — that  storm,  whose  influences 
had  so  well  served  the  design  of  the  Strangler  on  Djalma,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  a  calm  and  serene  night. 

The  moon's  disc  rose  softly  behind  a  mass  of  striking  ruins,  situated 
on  a  hill,  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  wood,  three  leagues  from  Batavia. 

Large  rows  of  stones,  high  brick  walls  mutilated  by  the  tooth  of 
time,  vast  porticoes  covered  with  parasitical  vegetation,  were  seen  in 
the  clear  horizon,  in  the  silvery  light  which  was  shed  copiously  from 
the  blue  vault  of  heaven. 

Several  rays  of  moonshine,  stealing  through  the  opening  of  one 
of  the  porticoes,  fell  on  two  colossal  statues  placed  at  the  foot  of  an 
immense  staircase,  whose  disjointed  flag-stones  were  almost  entirely 
concealed  beneath  the  rank  grass,  moss,  and  underwood. 

The  remains  of  one  of  these  statues,  broken  in  the  middle,  were 
scattered  on  the  ground ;  the  other,  which  was  still  upright,  was 
frightful  to  look  at. 

It  represented  a  man  of  gigantic  proportions,  with  a  head  three 
feet  in  height,  the  expression  of  whose  countenance  was  ferocious  in 
the  extreme,  and  two  eyes  of  black  and  shining  schistus  were  inlaid 
in  its  stone-grey  face ;  the  mouth  large,  wide,  and  opened  to  its 
utmost  stretch,  had  become  the  nest  of  reptiles,  a  swarm  of  whom 
might  be  seen  crawling  in  and  out  of  the  lips  most  disgustingly. 

A  wide  girdle,  ornamented  with  symbols,  encircled  the  waist  of 
this  statue,  and  supported  the  long  sword  which  hung  by  its  side. 
The  giant  had  four  extended  arms,  and  in  his  four  massive  outspread 
hands  he  supported  an  elephant's  head,  a  coiled  snake,  a  human  skull, 
and  a  bird  resembling  a  heron. 

The  moon,  which  lighted  this  statue  on  one  side,  spread  a  full 
light  over  the  profile,  which  added  to  the  singular  fierceness  of  the 
countenance. 

Here  and  there,  inserted  in  the  midst  of  the  brick  walls,  half  de- 
stroyed, were  fragments  of  bas-relief,  also  a  stone  very  boldly  carved ; 


THE     STaANOLEK    CHIEFS. 
f.   l»7. 


Lnnilun:  Ch.iinr.aii  .in. I  Mall.     July  I,  Is4;< 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI.  137 

one  of  these,  in  the  best  state  of  preservation,  represented  a  man  with 
an  elephant's  head,  with  wings  like  a  bat,  and  devouring  a  child. 

Nothing  could  be  more  repulsive  than  these  ruins,  encompassed 
by  thickets  of  trees  of  a  dark  green,  covered  with  mystic  emblems, 
and  seen  by  the  moon's  pale  light  in  the  profound  silence  of  night. 

In  the  angle  of  one  of  the  walls  of  this  ancient  temple,  dedicated  to 
some  mysterious  and  bloody  Javanese  deity,  was  erected  a  hut,  clum- 
sily constructed  of  fragments  of  brick  and  stone ;  the  door,  made  of 
the  bulrush  stalks,  was  open,  and  there  issued  from  it  a  reddish  light, 
which  cast  its  warm  glare  on  the  tall  weeds  with  which  the  earth  was 
covered. 

Three  men  were  in  this  hovel,  lighted  by  a  clay  lamp,  in  which 
burnt  a  wick  made  of  the  cocoa-tree  fibre  and  fed  with  palm-oil. 

One  of  these  individuals,  a  man  about  forty  years  of  age,  was 
dressed  in  shabby  European  attire;  his  pale  and  almost  white  com- 
plexion proving  that  he  was  of  Mulatto  race ;  that  is,  the  child  of  a 
white  man  and  an  Indian  mother. 

The  second  was  a  robust  African  Negro,  with  blubber-lips,  mus- 
cular shoulders,  and  spindle  legs ;  his  frizzly  hair  was  becoming  grey, 
and,  covered  with  tatters,  he  was  standing  upright  near  the  Indian. 

A  third  person  was  asleep  on  a  mat  in  the  corner  of  this  lair. 

These  three  men  were  the  three  chiefs  of  the  Stranglers  who,  pur- 
sued in  continental  India,  had  sought  refuge  in  Java  under  the  guid- 
ance of  the  smuggler  Mahal. 

"  The  Malay  does  not  return,"  said  the  Mulatto,  whose  name  was 
Faringhea,  the  most  redoubtable  of  this  homicidal  sect ;  "  he  may 
have  been  slain  by  Djalma  in  executing  our  orders." 

"  The  morning's  storm  has  brought  the  reptiles  out  of  their  holes 
in  swarms,"  said  the  Negro ;  "  perhaps  the  Malay  has  been  bitten,  and 
his  carcass  may  now  be  only  a  serpent's  nest." 

"  To  advance  the  good  work"  said  Faringhea,  with  a  sombre  air, 
"  death  in  all  shapes  must  be  braved." 

"  And  inflicted,"  added  the  Negro. 

A  stifled  cry,  followed  by  several  inarticulate  words,  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  two  chiefs,  who  turned  quickly  towards  the  sleeping 
man. 

He  was  about  thirty  years  of  age,  and  his  beardless  chin  and 
copper-coloured  skin,  his  dress  of  coarse  stun",  his  small  variegated 
turban  of  yellow  and  brown,  evinced  that  he  belonged  to  the  pure 
Hindoo  race.  His  sleep  was  agitated  by  some  painful  dream,  abun- 
dant perspiration  covered  his  features,  contracted  by  terror — he  uttered 
words,  and  his  voice  was  stifled  and  moaning,  whilst  his  frame  shook 
with  convulsive  agitation. 

"  Always  this  dream  ! "  said  Faringhea  to  the  Negro ;  "  always  the 
remembrance  of  tliat  man  ! " 

"  What  man  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  recollect,  five  years  ago,  that  savage,  Colonel  Kennedy 
— the  Indians'  executioner — who  came  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  to 
hunt  the  tiger,  with  twenty  horses,  four  elephants,  and  fifty  at- 
tendants ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ! "  said  the  Negro ;  "  and  we  three,  men-hunters,  we 
had  better  sport  thun  he  had,.  Kennedy,  with  his  horses,  elephants. 


138  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  large  train,  did  not  catch  his  tiger ;  but  we,  we  had  ours,"  he 
added,  with  fierce  irony.  "  Yes,  Kennedy,  that  tiger  with  a  human 
face,  fell  into  our  ambush,  and  the  '•Brothers  of  the  Good  Work'  offered 
up  their  glorious  prize  to  their  goddess  Bohwanie !" 

"  If  you  remember,  it  was  at  the  moment  when  we  had  encircled 
Kennedy's  neck  with  the  last  twist  of  our  cord,  that  we  suddenly  saw 
this  traveller — he  had  beheld  us,  and  we  were  compelled  to  make  away 
with  him.  Since  that,"  added  Faringhea,  "  the  recollection  of  the 
murder  of  that  man  follows  him" — (pointing  to  the  sleeping  Hindoo) 
— "even  in  his  dreama." 

"  As  well  as  when  he  is  awake,"  said  the  Negro,  looking  signifi- 
cantly at  Faringhea. 

"  Hark ! "  said  the  latter,  looking  towards  the  Indian,  who,  in  the 
agitation  of  his  dream,  began  speaking  again  in  muttering  and  broken 
tones.  "  Hark  !  he  is  repeating  the  replies  of  that  traveller  when  we 
told  him  he  must  die,  or  join  us  in  the  good  work.  His  mind  was  un- 
settled by  it — decidedly  affected ! " 

At  this  moment  he  uttered  in  his  sleep  a  sort  of  mysterious  inter- 
rogatory, in  which,  by  turns,  he  gave  the  questions  and  replies. 

"  Traveller,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  broken  by  occasional  abrupt 
pauses,  "  why  hast  thou  that  black  circle  on  thy  brow  ?  It  extends 
from  one  temple  to  the  other — it  is  a  fatal  brand  ;  thy  look  is  as  sad  as 
death  itself.  Hast  thou  been  a  victim?  Come  with  us — Bohwanie 
avenges  the  injured.  Thou  hast  suffered? — Yes,  suffered  deeply! 
For  a  long  time? — Yes,  for  a  very  long  time!  Thou  still  sufferest? — 
For  ever  !  What  wouldst  thou  bestow  on  him  who  hath  so  done  to 
thee? — Pity!  Will  thou  return  blow  for  blow? — /  would  return 
love  for  hatred!  Who  art  thou,  then,  that  wouldst  return  good  for  evil? 
— /  am  he  w/io  loves,  suffers,  and  forgives" 

"  Dost  hear  him,  brother  ?  "  said  the  Negro  to  Faringhea  ;  "  he  has 
not  forgotten  the  words  of  the  traveller  before  his  death." 

"  The  vision  follows  him  still.  Listen — he  speaks  again.  How 
ghastly  he  looks  ! " 

The  Indian,  still  under  the  influence  of  his  dream,  continued  thus : 

"  Traveller,  there  are  three  of  us :  we  are  fearless,  and  have  death 
in  our  hands ;  thou  hast  seen  us  already  make  a  sacrifice  to  the  good 
work  ;  join  us  or  die — die — die ! — Oh,  what  a  look  !—- Not  so — do  not 
look  at  me  so " 

As  he  uttered  these  words  the  Hindoo  made  a  sudden  motion,  as  if 
to  drive  away  an  object  that  approached  him,  and  awoke  with  a  start. 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  which  was  reeking  with 
perspiration,  and  looked  wildly  around  him. 

"  Brother,  always  this  dream !"  said  Faringhea  to  him :  "  for  a 
hardy  hunter  of  men,  thy  head  is  weak.  Fortunately  thine  heart  and 
thine  arm  are  strong." 

The  Indian  did  not  reply  for  some  moments,  but  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

After  a  pause  he  said,  "  For  a  long  while  I  have  not  dreamed  of 
this  traveller." 

"  Is  he  not  dead  ? "  said  Faringhea,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  Didst  not  thou  thyself  cast  the  cord  around  his  neck  ?  " 

"  I  did ! "  said  the  Indian,  shuddering. 


THE  RUINS  0V  TCHANDI.  139 

"  Did  we  not  dig  his  grave  close  to  that  of  Colonel  Kennedy  ? 
Did  we  not  bury  him  as  we  did  the  English  butcher,  under  the  sand 
and  bulrushes  ?  "  asked  the  Negro. 

"  Yes,  we  dug  his  grave,"  said  the  Indian,  deeply  agitated  ;  "  and  yet 
it  is  now  a  year  ago  that  I  was  at  Bombay,  when,  one  evening,  as  I  was 
awaiting  one  of  our  brethren,  at  sun-down,  near  the  pagoda  which  is 
at  the  side  of  the  little  hill — whilst  I  was  looking  at  the  view  before 
me,  seated  under  a  fig-tree,  I  heard  a  gentle,  slow,  and  firm  footstep ; 
I  turned  my  head — .'twas  he,  leaving  the  city." 

"  A  dream  ! "  said  the  Negro.     "  Nothing  but  a  dream  ! " 
"  Yes,  a  vision," added  Faringhea ;  "or  some  singular  resemblance." 
"  I  knew  him  at  once  by  the  black  half-circle  which  shrouds  his 
brow — 'twas  he  !  'twas  he  f    I  remained  motionless  with  fear — my  eyes 
starting  out  of  my  head.     He  stopped,  and  cast  on  me  his  mild  and 
melancholy  glance  :  in  spite  of  myself  I  exclaimed — Tis  he  ! " 

"  '  ft  is  I,"  he  replied,  with  his  gentle  voice  ;  '  and  all  those  you  have 
slain  will  rise  again  as  I  have  done'  Then  he  pointed  towards  the 
sky,  and  continued,  '  WJiy  slay  ?  Hearken !  I  came  from  Java,  I 
am  going  to  the  other  end  of  the  globe,  to  a  country  of  eternal  snows  ; 
there  or  here,  whether  on  a  flaming  soil  or  an  icy  land,  yet  I  shall  be 
for  eternity.  Thus  will  it  be  with  the  souls  of  all  who  fall  under  thy 
deadly  cord,  either  in  this  world  or  the  other;  in  this  earthly  form,  or  in 
some  other,  the  SOUL  will  always  be  a  SOUL — thou  canst  not  extinguish 
THAT.  Then,  wherefore  slay?'  And  then,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully, 
he  went  on  his  way,  always  walking  slowly,  with  his  forehead  bowed. 
He  ascended  the  hill  of  the  pagoda,  and  I  followed  him  with  my  eyes 
without  stirring  from  the  spot.  As  the  sun  set,  he  paused  on  the  sum- 
mit, his  tall  figure  was  marked  against  the  sky,  and  then  he  disap- 
peared. Oh,  'twas  he  ! "  said  the  Indian,  trembling  violently  as  he 
spoke;  and  then  again,  after  a  long  pause,  "  Yes,  'twas  he!" 

This  recital  of  the  Indian  had  never  varied,  and  he  had  frequently 
narrated  this  mysterious  adventure-  to  his  comrades.  This  pertinacity 
on  his  part  shook  their  incredulity,  or  rather  made  them  endeavour  to 
find  some  natural  solution  for  an  event  which  appeared  supernatural. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Faringhea,  after  some  reflection,  "  the  knot  which 
choked  the  traveller  was  not  so  tight  as  actually  to  cause  death,  and  a 
breath  of  life  might  remain  in  him  ;  the  air  may  have  penetrated 
the  rushes  with  which  we  covered  his  grave,  and  so  he  returned 
to  life." 

"  No,  no ! "  said  the  Indian,  shaking  his  head ;  "  this  man  was  not 
of  our  race " 

"  What  mean  you  ?" 

"  Now  I  am  sure " 

"  Sure  of  what?" 

"  Listen  ! "  said  the  Hindoo,  in  a  solemn  voice.  "  The  number  of 
victims  that  the  children  of  Bohwanie  have  sacrificed  since  the  begin- 
ning of  ages,  is  nothing  to  the  immensity  of  dead  and  dying  that  this 
terrible  traveller  leaves  behind  him  in  his  march  of  destruction." 

"  He  ! "  exclaimed  the  Negro  and  Faringhea. 

"  He ! "  replied  the  Indian,  with  an  accent  of  conviction  which 
struck  home  to  his  companions.  "  Hearken  and  tremble  !  When  I 


140  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

met  this  traveller  at  the  gates  of  Bombay,  lie  had  come  from  Java,  and 
was  going  towards  the  north,  as  he  said.  The  next  day  Bombay  was 
ravaged  by  the  Cholera ;  and,  some  time  afterwards,  we  learnt  that  this, 
scourge  had  burst  forth  here  at  Java." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  Negro. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  resumed  the  Hindoo.  "  '  I  am  going  towards  the 
north — to  a  country  of  eternal  snow,'  said  the  traveller  to  me ;  and 
has  not  the  Cholera  also  gone  northward,  passing  Mascata,  Ispahan, 
Tauris,  Teflis,  and  reached  Siberia  ?  " 

"  True,"  replied  Faringhea,  thoughtfully. 

"  And  the  Cholera,"  resumed  the  Indian,  "  only  proceeded  at  the 
extent  of  five  or  six  leagues  a-day — a  man's  journey.  It  never  appeared 
in  two  places  at  once,  but  progressed  slowly,  equally,  always  at  the 
pace  of  a  man's  daily  travel." 

At  this  singular  comparison,  the  two  comrades  of  the  Hindoo 
looked  at  each  other  in  great  amaze. 

After  some  minutes'  silence,  the  affrighted  Negro  said  to  the  Indian : 

"  And  you  believe  that  this  man " 

"  I  believe  that  this  man,  whom  we  killed,  restored  to  life  by  some 
infernal  divinity,  has  been  empowered  to  spread  this  terrible  scourge 
over  the  earth,  and  to  spread  death  wheresoever  he  may  wander,  though 
he  himself  cannot  be  affected  by  it.  Remember,"  added  the  Indian, 
with  gloomy  emphasis — "  remember,  this  terrible  traveller  has  passed 
by  Java — the  Cholera  has  devastated  Java ;  this  traveller  has  passed  by 
Bombay — the  Cholera  has  devastated  Bombay ;  this  traveller  has  gone 
northward — the  Cholera  lias  devastated  the  north " 

And  the  Indian,  pausing,  fell  into  a  deep  reverie. 

The  Negro  and  Faringhea  were  overcome  by  deep  astonishment. 
The  Indian  was  right  as  to  the  mysterious  progress  (wholly  inexpli- 
cable) of  this  fearful  scourge,  which,  as  we  know,  did  not  spread  more 
than  five  or  six  leagues  a-day,  and  never  appeared  simultaneously  in 
two  places  at  once. 

Nothing  can  be  more  striking  than  to  follow,  on  a  map  marked 
for  that  purpose,  and  correctly,  the  steady  advance  of  this  progressive 
scourge,  which  presents  to  the  astonished  eye  all  the  caprices,  and  all 
the  incidents,  of  the  march  of  a  wayward  traveller. 

Going  here  in  preference  to  there  ;  choosing  certain  districts  in  a 
country  and  certain  cities  in  those  districts,  certain  quarters  in  those 
cities,  certain  streets  in  those  quarters,  certain  houses  in  those  streets ; 
having  even  its  places  of  rest  and  cessation,  and  then  resuming  its 
gradual,  mysterious,  and  terrible  progress. 

The  words  of  the  Indian  which  described  these  fearful  wantonings 
made,  necessarily,  a  deep  impression  on  the  Negro  and  Faringhea, 
fierce  as  were  their  dispositions,  and  directed  by  revolting  doctrines 
to  the  monomania  of  murder. 

It  is  an  undenied  and  undeniable  fact,  that  there  are  in  India 
sects  of  this  abominable  community,  creatures  who,  almost  always, 
commit  their  murders  without  motive  or  excitement, — who  kill  for 
murder's  sake — for  the  pleasure  of  slaying — for  the  sake  of  substituting 
death  for  life — to  make  a  live  being  a  dead  corpse, — as  they  have  de- 
clared in  answer  to  questions  put  to  them. 


THE  RUINS  OF  TCHANDI.  141 

Thought  is  lost  in  the  attempt  to  penetrate  to  the  cause  of  such 
monstrous  phenomena.  By  what  incredible  series  of  events  have  men 
become  vowed  to  such  a  priesthood  of  Death  ? 

Doubtless,  such  a  religion  cannot  flourish  but  in  countries  de- 
voted, like  India,  to  the  most  atrocious  system  of  slavery  —  to  the 
most  pitiless  experiments  of  man  on  his  fellow-man. 

Such  a  religion  must  be  the  outbreak  of  the  hatred  of  humanity 
exasperated,  beyond  endurance,  by  the  oppression  of  selfish  power. 
Perhaps,  too,  this  homicidal  sect,  whose  origin  is  lost  in  the  night  of 
ages,  is  perpetuated  in  these  regions  as  the  only  possible  protest  of 
slavery  against  despotism.  Perhaps,  indeed,  the  Almighty,  in  His 
impenetrable  designs,  has  created  the  Phansegars  as  he  has  created 
tigers  and  serpents. 

It  is  very  remarkable,  in  this  repulsive  community,  that  a  mys- 
terious link  unites  all  the  members  together,  and  isolates  them  from 
their  fellow-men  ;  for  they  have  laws  of  their  own,  customs  of  their 
own  ;  they  devote  themselves  to  each  other,  sustain  and  aid  each  other, 
but  they  have  neither  country  nor  family, — they  spring,  then,  them- 
selves, only  in  conformity  to  a  dark  and  mysterious  power,  whose  be- 
hests they  blindly  obey,  and  in  whose  name  they  wander  abroad  and 
"  make  corpses"  to  use  one  of  their  own  ferocious  expressions.* 

*  We  append  some  extracts  from  the  very  curious  book  of  M.  le  Comte  de  Warren 
on  British  lodia  in  1831  : — 

"  Beside  the  robbers  who  kill  for  the  snke  of  the  booty  which  they  trust  to  find 
on  travellers,  there  is  a  class  of  assassins,  organised  into  a  society,  with  chiefs,  a 
service,  a  free-masonry,  and  even  a  religion,  which  has  its  fanaticism  and  its  devo- 
tion, its  agents,  its  emissaries,  its  assistants,  its  moving  bodies,  its  passive  comrades, 
who  contribute  by  their  subscriptions  to  "  the  good  work."  It  is  the  community  of 
Thugs,  Phansegars  (cheats  or  stranglers,  from  thugna,  to  cheat,  and  phasna,  to 
strangle),  a  religious  and  working  confraternity,  who  war  against  the  human  race  by 
exterminating  them,  and  whoso  origin  is  lost  in  the  night  of  ages. 

"  Up  to  1810  their  existence  was  not  only  unknown  to  their  European  conquer- 
ors, but  even  to  their  native  governments.  Between  the  years  1816  and  1830, 
many  bands  were  taken  in  the  fact  and  punished,  but  up  to  the  latter  period  all  the 
revelations  made  on  this  subject  by  officers  of  high  experience  seemed  too  monstrous 
to  obtain  public  attention  and  belief,  and  had  been  refused  credence,  as  the  dreams  of 
a  wild  imagination.  Yet  for  very  many  years,  at  least  for  half  a  century,  this  social 
plague-spot  had  consumed  immense  populations,  from  the  foot  of  the  Himalaya  to 
Cape  Comorin,  from  Cutch  to  Assam. 

"  It  wa*  in  the  year  1830  that  the  confessions  of  a  celebrated  chief,  whoso  life 
was  spared  on  condition  that  he  should  denounce  his  accomplices,  unfolded  the 
whole  system.  The  foundation  of  the  Thuggee  confraternity  is  a  religious  belief,  the 
worship  of  Bohwanie,  a  dark  divinity,  who  loves  nothing  but  carnage,  and  hates  es- 
pecially the  human  race.  Her  most  acceptable  sacrifices  are  human  victims,  and 
the  more  of  these  are  offered  up  in  this  world,  the  more  will  you  be  recompensed  in 
the  next  by  joys  of  the  soul  and  the  senses,  and  by  females,  always  young,  fresh,  and 
lovely.  If  the  assassin  should  meet  with  the  scaffold  in  his  career,  he  dies  with  en. 
thusiasm, — a  martyr  whom  a  palm  awaits.  To  obey  his  divine  mistress,  he  murders, 
without  anger  and  without  remorse,  the  old  man,  the  woman,  and  the  child.  To  his 
colleagues  he  must  be  charitable,  humane,  generous,  devoted,  sharing  all  in  common, 
because  they,  as  well  as  he,  are  ministers  and  adopted  children  of  Bohwanie. 

"  The  destruction  of  fellow-creatures  who  do  not  belong  to  the  same  community, 
and  the  diminution  of  the  human  species,  is  the  object  they  pursue.  It  is  not  a 
road  to  fortune,  for  the  booty  is  but  a  secondary  consideration — a  corollary  very 
agreeable,  no  doubt,  but  only  secondary  in  estimation.  Destruction  is  the  great  aim 
and  end — the  heavenly  mission,  the  absorbing  vocation.  It  is  a  delicious  gratifica- 
tion ;  the  hunting  down  of  men  is  the  most  intoxicating  sport  in  the  world.  '  You 
find  great  pleasure,'  was  said  by  one  of  theso  criminals,  '  in  pursuing  the  wild  beast 


142  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


For  some  moments  the  three  Stranglers  preserved  a  profound 
silence. 

Outside  the  hovel  the  moon  was  shedding  her  large  and  silvered 
rays  and  vast  blue  shadows  on  the  striking  mass  of  ruins.  The  stars 
shone  brilliantly,  and,  from  time  to  time,  the  fitful  breeze  shook  the 
clustering  and  bright  leaves  of  the  bananas  and  palm-trees. 

The  pedestal  of  the  gigantic  statue,  which  was  preserved  entire, 
and  was  at  the  left  of  the  portico,  rested  on  large  slabs,  half-concealed 
under  thick  and  rank  weeds. 

Suddenly  one  of  these  slabs  appeared  to  give  way. 

From  the  opening,  which  was  effected  noiselessly,  a  man,  clothed 
in  uniform,  looked  out  and  carefully  reconnoitred  about  him,  listening 
with  much  attention. 

Seeing  the  light  of  the  lamp  which  lighted  up  the  interior  of  the 
hut  glimmer  in  the  tall  herbage,  he  withdrew, — made  a  signal,  and 
then  he  and  two  other  soldiers  climbed,  with  the  greatest  precaution 
and  silence,  up  the  lower  steps  of  this  subterranean  staircase,  and 
moved  stealthily  across  the  ruins. 

For  some  moments  their  moving  shadows  were  thrown  on  the 
ground  by  the  moonbeams,  and  then  they  disappeared  behind  several 
pieces  of  the  fallen  walls. 

At  the  moment  when  the  thick  slab  resumed  its  place  and  level, 
heads  of  several  other  soldiers  were  visible  in  the  concealment  of  this 
excavation. 

The  Mulatto,  the  Indian,  and  the  Negro,  plunged  still  in  deep 
thought,  saw  nothing  of  this. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  AMBUSCADE. 

THE  Mulatto  Faringhea,  no  doubt  desirous  of  diverting  the  pain- 
ful thoughts  which  the  language  of  the  Indian  on  the  mysterious  pro- 
gress of  the  Cholera  had  excited,  suddenly  changed  the  conversation. 
His  eye  shone  with  a  wild  glare,  and  his  countenance  assumed  a  look 
of  fierce  enthusiasm,  as  he  exclaimed, — 

'•  Bohwanie  will  always  watch  over  us,  fearless  hunters  of  men. 

to  its  lair,  in  attacking  the  wild  boar  and  tiger,  because  there  are  dangers  to  fare,  en- 
ergy and  courage  to  display.  Only  think,  then,  how  that  fascination  must  be  re- 
doubled when  the  struggle  is  with  men,  when  it  is  men  whom  you  destroy !  Instead 
of  the  exercise  of  one  only  faculty,  courage,  you  have  at  once  to  evince  courage,  cun- 
ning, foresight,  eloquence,  diplomacy.  How  many  springs  to  move! — how  many 
strings  to  touch  !  To  play  with  all  the  passions,  to  cause  vibration  on  the  chords  ol 
love  and  friendship  to  lead  your  prey  into  your  nets ;  it  is  a  glorious  chase,  it  is 
sublime — enrapturing,  I  say  !' 

"  Whoever  was  in  India,  in  the  years  1831  and  1833,  will  remember  the  stupor 
and  affright  caused  by  the  discovery  of  this  vast  infernal  machinery  spread  through- 
out society.  A  great  number  of  magistrates  of  the  provinces  refused  to  believe  it, 
and  could  not  comprehend  how  a  system  so  vast  bad  for  so  long  a  time  absorbed  tie 
social  body  under  their  eyes,  silently  and  without  betraying  itself." — British  India 
in  1831,  by  M.  Edward  de  Warren,  2  vols.  8vo.  Paris,  1844. 


THE  AMBUSCADE.  143 

Courage,  brothers,  courage ! — the  world  is  wide  and  our  prey  is  every 
where.  The  English  force  us  to  leave  India — we,  the  three  chiefs  of 
the  good  work  !  What  matters  that  ?  We  leave  behind  us  brethren, 
as  well  concealed,  as  numerous,  as  terrible,  as  the  black  scorpions, 
which  only  betray  their  presence  by  their  deadly  bite !  Exile  but 
widens  our  range,  our  domains  I  Brother,  to  thee  is  America !  "  said 
the  chief  to  the  Hindoo,  with  an  air  of  inspiration  ;  "  Brother,  to  thee 
is  Africa!"  he  said  to  the  Negro;  "Brothers,  to  me  is  Europe! 
Wherever  there  are  men,  there  arc  executioners  and  victims — wher- 
ever there  are  victims  there  are  hearts  filled  with  hatred ;  be  it  our 
task  to  influence  those  hatreds  with  all  the  fiercest  longings  after 
vengeance  !  It  is  reserved  for  us,  by  dint  of  stratagems  and  seductions, 
to  draw  around  us,  servants  of  Bohwanie,  all  whose  zeal,  courage,  and 
boldness,  can  be  useful  to  us.  Amongst  ourselves,  and  for  ourselves, 
let  us  rival  each  other  in  devotion,  in  self-denial.  Let  us  lend  each 
other  force,  help,  and  support.  Let  all  who  are  not  with  us  be  our 
prey.  Let  us  isolate  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  all,  against  all,  in 
spite  of  all.  For  us  let  there  be  no  country,  no  family  ! — our  family  is 
our  brethren  ;  our  country,  the  universe  ! " 

This  savage  eloquence  deeply  impressed  the  Negro  and  the  Hin- 
doo, who  were  usually  under  the  influence  of  Faringhea,  whose  intelli- 
gence was  so  greatly  superior  to  their  own,  although  they  themselves 
were  amongst  the  most  eminent  leaders  of  this  sanguinary  fraternity. . 

"  You  are  right,  brother,"  exclaimed  the  Hindoo,  fired  by  the  en- 
thusiasm of  Faringhea;  "be  the  world  ours!  Here,  even  in  Java, 
let  us  leave  a  trace  of  our  passage.  Before  we  quit  it,  let  us  establish 
the  good  work  in  this  island ;  it  will  increase,  for  her  misery  is  great. 
The  Dutch  are  as  rapacious  as  the  English.  Brothers,  I  saw  in  the 
marshy  rice-fields  of  this  isle,  always  deadly  to  those  who  cultivate 
them,  men  M'hom  want  forced  to  this  suicidal  labour ;  they  were  pale 
and  wan  as  dead  corpses.  Some,  extenuated  by  sickness,  fatigue,  and 
famine,  fell  never  again  to  rise  I  Brothers,  the  good  work  will  increase 
in  this  land  !" 

"  The  other  evening,"  said  the  Mulatto,  "  I  was  on  the  border  of 
the  lake  behind  a  rock  ;  a  young  woman  came  thither  having  on  a 
few  miserable  rags,  which  scarcely  covered  her  lean  and  wasted  frame  : 
in  her  arms  she  bore  a  young  child,  whom  she,  weeping,  pressed 
against  her  dried-up  breast.  She  embraced  the  infant  thrice,  saying, 
— '  Thou,  at  least,  shalt  not  become  miserable  like  thy  father ! '  and 
she  cast  it  into  the  waters,  uttering  a  piercing  shriek  as  the  child  sunk. 
At  this  sound  an  alligator,  concealed  in  the  reeds,  dashed  into  the 
lake.  Brothers,  here  mothers  kill  their  children  for  pity's  sake.  Oh, 
the  good  work  will  increase  in  this  land  ! " 

"  This  morning,"  said  the  Negro,  "  whilst  they  were  mangling  one 
of  the  black  slaves  with  the  lash,  a  little  old  man,  a  merchant  of 
Batavia,  left  his  country-house  to  return  to  the  city.  In  his  palanquin 
he  received,  with  all  the  indolence  of  palled  appetite,  the  sad  caresses 
of  two  of  the  young  creatures  with  whom  his  harem  is  peopled,  by 
purchasing  them  of  their  parents,  too  poor  to  bring  them  up.  The 
palanquin  which  held  this  old  man  and  the  two  young  girls  was 
borne  by  a  dozen  young  and  powerful  men.  Brethren,  there  are 
mothers  here  who,  from  want,  sell  their  children— slaves  who  have  not 


144  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  brute's  pity  nor  a  hound's  fee — men  who  carry  others  like  beasts  of 
burthen  ;  yes,  yes,  the  good  work  will  increase  in  this  country  ! " 

"  In  this  country?  yes,  and  in  every  country  of  oppression,  misery, 
corruption,  and  slavery." 

"  Should  we  succeed  in  engaging  Djalma  to  join  us,  as  Mahal  the 
smuggler  advises  us,"  said  the  Indian,  "  our  voyage  to  Java  will  be 
doubly  profitable ;  for  before  we  go  we  shall  include  in  our  ranks  this 
bold  and  daring  young  man,  who  has  so  many  motives  for  hating 
mankind." 

"  When  he  comes  we  will  sharpen  his  animosities." 

"  Let  us  remind  him  of  his  father's  death." 

"  The  slaughter  of  all  his  people." 

"  His  own  captivity." 

"  If  hatred  but  inflame  his  heart,  he  is  assuredly  ours." 

The  Negro,  who  had  been  for  some  time  lost  in  thought,  said 
abruptly, — 

"  My  brothers,  what  if  the  smuggler  Mahal  has  deceived  us?" 

"  He  !"  exclaimed  the  Indian,  almost  indignantly ;  "  why,  he  gave 
us  refuge  on  board  his  coaster,  and  effected  our  escape  from  the  main- 
land, and  he  will  take  us  on  board  the  schooner  which  he  is  to 
command,  and  convey  us  to  Bombay,  where  we  shall  find  vessels  for 
America,  Europe,  and  Africa." 

"  What  interest  can  Mahal  have  for  betraying  us  ?"  inquired 
Faringhea ;  "  he  knows  how  impossible  it  is  to  escape  the  vengeance 
of  the  sons  of  Bohwanie." 

"  Then,  too,"  said  the  black,  "  he  has  promised,  by  a  trick,  to 
bring  Djalma  here  amongst  us  this  evening ;  and,  once  here,  he  must 
become  one  of  us." 

"  Besides,  was  it  not  the  smuggler  who  said  to  us, '  Order  the  Malay 
to  go  to  Djalma's  ajoupa,  to  surprise  him  during  sleep,  but  instead  of 
killing  him,  as  he  might,  let  him  mark  on  his  arm  Bohwanie's  name  ? ' 
Thus  Djalma  will  judge  of  the  resolution,  address,  and  devotion  of  our 
brotherhood,  and  know  what  there  is  to  hope  and  fear  from  such  men. 
Through  admiration  or  fear,  then,  he  must  join  us." 

"  But  should  he  refuse  to  do  so,  in  spite  of  the  reasons  he  has  to 
hate  his  fellow-men  ?  " 

"  Then,  Bohwanie  will  decide  upon  his  destiny,"  said  Faringhea, 
with  a  gloomy  air.  "  I  have  my  plan." 

"  Think  you  the  Malay  will  succeed  in  surprising  Djalraa  during 
his  sleep  ?  "  said  the  Negro. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  living  creature  to  be  bolder,  more  adroit,  and 
more  active,  than  the  Malay,"  said  Faringhea.  "  He  has  had  the 
daring  to  surprise  a  black  female  panther  in  her  lair  whilst  she  was 
suckling,  and  he  killed  the  mother  and  carried  off  the  cub,  which  he 
afterwards  sold  to  the  captain  of  an  European  vessel." 

"  The  Malay  has  succeeded  ! "  exclaimed  the  Hindoo,  listening  to 
a  singular  cry  which  resounded  through  the  deep  silence  of  the  night 
and  woods. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  cry  of  the  vulture  who  bears  off  his  prey,"  said  the 
Negro,  also  listening.  "  It  is  the  signal  by  which  our  brethren  an- 
nounce their  success." 

Shortly  afterwards  the  Malay  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  hut. 


DJALMA     AND     THE    STRANGLERS. 
P.    MY 


:  riiapinnn  .iinl  Hall.     May  I. 


THE  AMBUSCADE.  145 

He  was  dressed  in  a  large  piece  of  cotton,  striped  with  various  bright 
colours. 

"  Djalma  will  all  his  life  bear  the  mark  of  the  good  work"  said  the 
Malay,  exultingly.  "  To  get  at  him  I  was  compelled  to  offer  up  to 
Bohwanie  a  man  who  crossed  my  path ;  I  left  his  carcass  under  the 
bushes  near  the  ajoupa.  Djalma  bears  our  sign — Mahal  the  smuggler 
was  the  first  to  know  that." 

"And!  Djalma  did  not  awake?"  said  the  Indian,  amazed  at  the 
Malay's  address. 

"  If  he  had  awakened,  I  must  have  been  dead,"  replied  he,  calmly ; 
"  for  I  was  ordered  to  spare  his  life." 

"  Because  his  life  may  be  more  useful  to  us  than  his  death,"  replied 
the  Mulatto.  Then,  addressing  the  Malay,  "  Brother,  in  risking  your 
life  for  the  good  work,  you  have  done  to-day  what  we  did  yesterday, 
and  must  do  again  to-morrow.  To-day,  you  obey;  another  day, 
and  you  will  command." 

"  We  all  belong  to  Bohwanie,"  said  the  Malay.  "  What  is  next 
to  be  done  ?  I  am  ready." 

As  he  spoke,  the  Malay  turned  towards  the  door  of  the  hovel,  and 
said  suddenly,  and  in  a  calm  voice,  "  Here  is  Djalma — he  is  approach- 
ing the  cabin  :  Mahal  has  not  deceived  us." 

"  He  must  not  see  me  yet,"  said  Faringhea,  going  into  the  further 
corner  of  the  hut  and  concealing  himself  beneath  a  mat.  "  Try  and 
persuade  him  ;  if  he  resist,  I  have  my  plan." 

Faringhea  had  scarcely  disappeared  when  Djalma  reached  the  door 
of  the  hovel. 

At  the  sight  of  these  three  persons,  with  countenances  so  repulsive, 
Djalma  recoiled  with  surprise.  Ignorant  that  these  men  belonged  to 
the  sect  of  Phansegar  and  knowing  that  in  this  country,  where  there 
are  no  public-honses,  travellers  often  pass  the  night  under  tents,  or  in 
ruins  which  they  pass,  he  made  a  step  towards  them.  When  his  first 
surprise  was  over,  recognising,  in  the  bronzed  features  and  peculiar 
costume  of  one  of  these  individuals,  a  Hindoo,  he  said  to  him,  in  his 
native  tongue, — 

"  I  expected  to  find  here  an  European, —  a  Frenchman." 

"  The  Frenchman  is  not  here  now,"  replied  the  Indian ;  "  but  he 
will  not  be  long." 

The  Indian  comprehending  by  Djalma's  question  the  means  which 
Mahal  had  made  use  of  to  draw  him  into  this  snare,  hoped  to  gain  time 
by  not  undeceiving  him. 

"  Do  you  know  this  Frenchman?"  asked  Djalma  of  the  Phansegar. 

"  He  appointed  to  meet  us  here  as  well  as  yourself,"  replied  .the 
ndian. 

"  And  why  ?"  said  Djalma,  more  and  more  astonished. 

"  You  will  know  when  he  arrives." 

"  Was  it  General  Simon  who  told  you  to  be  here?" 

"  It  was  General  Simon." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause,  during  which  Djalma  in  vain 
endeavoured  to  expound  tliis  mystery. 

"  And  who  are  you?"  he  inquired  of  the  Indian  with  a  suspicious 
air,  for  the  profound  silence  which  the  two  companions  of  the  Phan- 
segar  observed  began  to  excite  his  suspicion. 

10  L 


146  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Who  afc  we  ?  "  replied  the  Hindoo ;  "  we  are  yours  if  you  will 
be  ours." 

"  I  have  no  need  of  you :  you  have  no  need  of  me  ?  " 

"Who  knows?" 

« I  know." 

"You  deceive  yourself:  the  English  killed  your  father;  he  was  a 
king.  You  have  been  a  captive,  proscribed,  and  now  possess  nothing." 

At  this  reminding  of  his  condition  and  his  sufferings,  Djalma's 
brow  became  clouded ;  he  started,  and  a  bitter  smile  curled  his  lips. 
The  Phansegar  continued : 

"  Your  father  was  just  and  brave ;  beloved  by  his  subjects :  he 
was  called  the  Father  of  the  Generous,  and  well  named  was  he.  Will 
you  let  his  death  pass  away  without  vengeance  ?  Hatred  is  gnawing 
at  your  heart ;  shall  it  bite  into  you  in  vain  ?  " 

"  My  father  died  with  his  weapons  in  his  hand  —  I  revenged  his 
death  on  the  English,  whom  I  slew  in  battle.  He  who  replaced  my 
father,  and  also  fought  for  him,  has  told  me  that  it  would  be  folly, 
madness,  for  me  to  seek  to  contend  against  the  English  to  recover  my 
territory.  When  they  set  me  at  liberty  I  swore  never  again  to  set 
foot  in  India,  and  I  will  keep  my  word." 

"  They  who  despoiled  you,  who  made  you  captive,  who  killed  your 
father,  are  men.  Yes,  men  I  And  there  are  other  men  on  whom  you 
may  take  vengeance ,  let  your  hate  fall  on  them." 

"  You,  who  speak  so  of  your  fellow-men,  are  not  you  also  a  man  ?" 

"  I,  and  those  who  are  with  me,  are  more  than  men.  We  are  to 
the  rest  of  the  human  race  what  the  bold  hunters  are  to  the  fierce 
beasts  whom  they  track  into  the  woods.  Will  you  become  as  we  are- 
more  than  a  man?  Will  you  assuage  surely,  widely,  fully,  safely,  the 
hatred  that  devours  your  heart,  after  all  the  ill,  the  injury  they  have 
done  you?" 

"  Your  words  become  more  and  more  obscure.  I  have  no  hatred 
in  my  heart,"  said  Djalma.  "  When  an  enemy  is  worthy  of  me,  I  fight 
him  ;  when  he  is  unworthy,  I  despise  him  ;  and  so  I  do  not  hate  cither 
the  brave  or  the  coward." 

"  Treachery  I "  exclaimed  the  Negro,  suddenly  pointing  to  the  door 
with  a  quick  gesture ;  for  Djalma  and  the  Indian  had  moved,  in  the 
course  of  their  conversation,  towards  one  of  the  corners  of  the  hut. 

At  the  cry  of  the  Negro,  Faringhea,  whom  Djalma  had  not  per- 
ceived, threw  rapidly  from  him  the  mat  behind  which  he  was  concealed, 
drew  his  dagger,  and,  with  a  leap  like  a  tiger's,  was  out  of  the  cabin. 
Seeing  then  a  body  of  soldiers  approaching  cautiously,  he  struck  one 
of  them  dead  with  his  poignard,  dashed  down  two  others,  and  then  dis- 
appeared amidst  the  ruins. 

This  occurred  so  instantaneously  that,  at  the  moment  when  Djalraa 
turned  round  to  seek  the  cause  of  the  Negro's  alarm  and  cry,  Faringhea 
had  disappeared.. 

Djalma  and  the  three  Stranglers  were  then  immediately  under  the 
fire  of  the  raised  muskets  of  many  of  the  soldiery,  whilst  the  others 
hastened  in  pursuit  of  Faringhea. 

The  Negro,  the  Malay,  and  the  Hindoo,  seeing  the  inutility  of 
resistance,  rapidly  exchanged  some  words,  and  then  extended  their 
hands  to  the  cords  with  which  the  soldiers  were  furnished. 


THE  AMBUSCADE.  147 

The  Dutch  captain  who  commanded  the  detachment  entered  the 
cabin. 

"  And  this  one,"  said  he,  pointing  out  Djalma  to  the  soldiers,  who 
had  bound  the  three  Phansegars. 

"  Each  in  his  turn,  sir,"  said  the  old  serjeant ;  "  we  were  going  on 
to  him." 

Djalma  remained  petrified  with  surprise,  wholly  unable  to  compre- 
hend any  thing  that  passed  around  him ;  but  when  he  saw  the  serjeant 
and  two  soldiers  advance  to  bind  him,  he  repulsed  them  with  violent 
indignation,  and  hastened  to  the  door  where  the  officer  was  standing. 

The  soldiers,  believing  that  Djalma  would  submit  to  his  fate  as 
quietly  as  his  companions,  did  not  anticipate  this  resistance  ;  but  struck, 
in  spite  of  themselves,  with  the  dignity  and  nobility  of  the  air  of  Kadja- 
Sing's  son,  they  retreated  a  pace  or  two. 

"  Why  would  you  bind  me  as  you  have  these  men  ? "  exclaimed 
Djalma,  speaking  in  Indian  to  the  officer,  who  understood  the 
language. 

"  Why  bind  you,  you  wretch  ?  Because  you  are  one  of  thig  gang 
of  assassins." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  him  ?  "  said  he  in  Dutch  to  his  men.  "  Bind 
him,  bind  him  hard  and  fast,  and  tie  your  knots  tight  round  his  wrists ; 
he'll  have  a  tighter  one  round  his  neck  very  speedily." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Djalma,  with  a  calmness  and  dignity 
which  astounded  the  officer.  "  I  have  been  here  scarcely  a  quarter  of 
an  hour.  I  know  nothing  of  these  men.  I  expected  to  have  found  a 
Frenchman  here." 

"  You  are  not  a  Phansegar  like  them  ?  Who  will  believe  that 
lie?" 

"Like  them!"  exclaimed  Djalma,  with  a  movement  of  horror  so 
natural,  that  the  officer  signed  to  his  soldiers  to  be  quiet.  "  These  men 
form  part  of  that  horrible  body  of  murderers?  and  do  you  accuse  me 
of  being  their  accomplice  ?  Then  I  am  quite  re-assured,  sir,"  said 
the  young  man,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  smiling  disdainfully. 

"  Your  expression  of  tranquillity  will  not  suffice  in  this  case,  as, 
thanks  to  certain  information  we  have  received,  we  are  cognisant  of 
the  mysterious  signs  which  designate  a  Phansegar." 

"  I  repeat,  that  you  yourself,  sir,  cannot  hold  this  murderous  sect 
in  greater  abhorrence  than  I  do ! " 

The  Negro,  interrupting  Djalma  with  ferocious  joy,  addressed  the 
officer,  saying, 

"  You  have  spoken  well.  The  sons  of  the  good  work  are  easily 
known  by  the  mystic  characters  tattooed  on  their  body.  Our  hour  has 
arrived,  and  wo  welcome  our  fate.  Full  oft  has  our  fatal  cord 
encircled  the  necks  of  such  as  were  enemies  of  the  good  work. 
Now,  then,  first  behold  our  arms ;  then  examine  those  of  this  young 
man." 

The  officer,  only  imperfectly  understanding  the  words  of  the 
Negro,  turned  to  Djalma,  saying, 

"  It  is  clear  that  if,  as  this  Negro  asserts,  you  do  not  bear  on  your 
arm  the  mysterious  symbol,  and  of  that  \ve  shall  easily  satisfy  ourselves, 
und  can  fully  account  for  your  presence  on  this  spot,  you  will  be 
liberated  at  the  end  of  two  hours." 


148  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  You  do  not  comprehend  me,"  exclaimed  the  Negro  to  the 
officer.  "  Prince  Djnlma  is  our  leading  brother,  and  bears  on  his  left 
arm  the  name  of  Bohwanie  in  testimony  thereof." 

"  Yes,"  added  the  Malay ;  "  he  is  as  much  the  sworn  servant  of 
the  good  work  as  we  are." 

"  And  as  compete  a  Phansegar  as  any  of  us,"  rejoined  the  Indian. 

These  three  men,  deeply  irritated  at  the  indignant  disgust  with 
which  Djalma  had  repudiated  the  idea  of  belonging  to  their  sect,  now 
took  a  ferocious  delight  in  endeavouring  to  prove  the  son  of  Kadja- 
Sing  a  member  of  their  horrible  association. 

"What  answer  do  you  make  to  all  this?"  inquired  the  officer  of 
Djalma. 

The  prince,  smiling  disdainfully,  replied  only  by  thrusting  back 
with  his  right  hand  the  loose  hanging  sleeve  from  his  left  arm,  and 
extending  it  bare  to  the  shoulder,  for  general  inspection. 

"Unparalleled  audacity  !"  exclaimed  the  officer,  as,  directing  his 
glance  to  the  out-stretched  arm  of  the  prince,  he  beheld,  in  indelible 
characters  of  deep  blood-red,  the  name  of  Bohwanie  traced  just  above 
the  principal  veins  at  the  bend  of  the  inside  elbow-joint. 

Passing  rapidly  from  the  prince  to  the  Malay,  the  officer  pushed 
back  his  sleeve,  and  saw  the  same  letters  similarly  traced.  Still  deter- 
mined upon  further  proof,  he  carefully  examined  the  arms  of  the  Negro 
and  Indian ;  each  bore  the  precise  counterpart  of  the  mysterious  words 
written  on  the  arm  of  Djalma. 

"Miserable  and  contemptible  being!"  cried  the  officer,  turning 
towards  the  prince,  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage  ;  "you  are  more  hateful  and 
abhorrent  to  my  sight  than  even  your  wretched  associates  !  Handcuff 
him,  like  a  mean,  cowardly  assassin  as  he  is  !"  added  he  to  the  soldiers ; 
"  tie  him  as  a  paltry  miscreant  who  lies  even  on  the  verge  of  the  grave, 
for  assuredly  his  punishment  will  not  be  long  deferred." 

Stupified  and  speechless,  Djalma  remained  in  mute  and  motionless 
surprise,  gazing  on  the  fatal  and  incomprehensible  marks  upon  his 
arm  —  his  whole  being  absorbed  in  dismay  and  wonder  at  a  fact  so 
bewildering. 

"  Have  you  still  the  effrontery  to  deny  bearing  these  characters?" 
exclaimed  the  officer,  with  deep  disgust  and  indignation. 

"Alas,  no!"  returned  the  prince,  in  accents  of  intense  suffering. 
"  '  Tis  there  —  I  see  it  but  too  plainly." 

"  'Tis  well,  unhappy  man  !  that  you  at  length  avow  your  guilt," 
replied  the  officer.  "  Soldiers,  watch  over  this  person  and  his  accom- 
plices—  remember  your  own  lives  will  have  to  answer  for  it  if  you 
suffer  them  to  escape." 

Djalma,  who  could  not  believe  all  this  was  more  than  a  fearful 
dream,  and  whose  senses  were  so  completely  disturbed  as  to  prevent  his 
attempting  to  justify  himself,  allowed  the  soldiers  to  manacle  his  limbs, 
and  lead  him  away  without  offering  the  slightest  resistance. 

The  officer,  aided  by  a  party  of  soldiers,  sought  diligently  through- 
out the  ruins  in  hopes  of  discovering  Faringhea,  but  in  vain ;  and  at 
the  lapse  of  an  hour  he  followed  the  prisoners,  who  had  been  previously 

despatched  to  Batavia  under  a  powerful  escort. 

****** 

A  few  hours  after  the  passing  of  the  events  we  have  just  described, 


THE    AMBUSCADE.  149 

M.  Joshua  Van  Dae'l  thus  terminated  his  long  letter  of  particulars  ad- 
dressed to  M.  Rodin,  at  Pa'ris  : — 

"  Circumstances  rendered  it  impossible  for  me  to  act  otherwise 
than  I  have  done  ;  and,  after  all,  if  a  small  mischief  has  been  done,  it. 
has  been  to  effect  a  great  good. 

"  Three  atrocious  murderers  have  been  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
justice,  and  the  temporary  arrest  of  Djalma  will  only  serve  to  display 
his  innocence  in  a  stronger  light. 

"  I  have  already  been  this  morning  to  the  governor  to  assert  the 
innocence  of  the  young  prince  ;  '  for,"  said  1,  '  since  it  is  entirely  owing 
to  me  that  three  notorious  criminals  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  jus- 
tice, I  have  a  strong  claim  upon  the  gratitude  of  the  public  authorities, 
whose  long  and  earnest  desire  I  have  now  enabled  them  to  carry  into 
effect ;  and  I  therefore  require,  as  my  sole  recompense,  that  they  will 
use  every  exertion  to  clear  the  character  of  Prince  Djalma,  already  so 
justly  estimated  for  his  many  noble  qualities,  and  deservedly  commi- 
serated for  his  great  misfortunes.  Certainly,'  continued  I,  'when  I 
hastened  yesterday  to  apprise  the  governor  that  a  meeting  of  the  Phan- 
segars  would  take  place  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  I  was  far  from  expect- 
ing that  it  would,  in  any  way,  involve  the  character  and  safety  of  the 
adopted  son  of  General  Simon,  whom  I  know  to  be  a  mdsc  highly 
honourable  man,  and  with  whom  I  have  had  many  satisfactory  trans- 
actions.' 

"  We  must,  therefore,  at  all  risks,  and  at  any  cost  of  time  or 
patience,  use  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  penetrate  the  inconceivable 
mystery  which  has  placed  Djalma  in  his  present  dangerous  position. 
'And,'  added  I,  'I  am  so  perfectly  convinced  of  his  entire  innocence 
of  the  revolting  charge  under  which  he  now  suffers,  that  for  his  o\vn 
sake  I  seek  no  pardon,  neither  do  I  solicit  his  immediate  release  — 
the  prince,  I  am  assured,  possesses  too  much  pride  and  dignity  to  desire 
to  quit  his  prison  until  his  innocence  is  made  to  appear  clear  and  un- 
clouded as  the  sun  at  noon-day.' 

"  You  will  perceive  that  in  thus  expressing  myself  I  in  no  respect 
departed  from  the  truth,  neither  have  I  loaded  my  conscience  with  the 
slightest  falsehood,  since  no  person  can  be  more  perfectly  satisfied  of 
the  innocence  of  Prince  Djalma  than  myself. 

"The  reply  of  the  governor  was  precisely  what  I  expected  it  would 
be.  He  said  that,  morally  speaking,  he  was  equally  convinced  with 
myself  of  the  young  prince's  innocence,  and  that  his  best  exertions 
should  be  given  to  clear  him  of  the  foul  accusation ;  but  that  justice 
must  take  its  course,  because  it  afforded  the  only  certain  method  of 
demonstrating  the  falsity  of  the  charge  made  against  the  prince,  or  of 
discovering  by  what  incomprehensible  fatality  the  mysterious  charac- 
ters were  tattooed  on  the  arm  of  Djalma. 

"  Mahal  the  smuggler,  who  alone  could  clear  up  this  perplexing 
point,  will  have  quitted  Batavia  within  an  hour,  to  embark  on  board 
the  Ruyter,  which  will  land  him  in  Egypt;  and  he  will  be  furnished 
with  a  note  from  me,  recommending  him  to  the  captain  of  that  vessel 
as  the  individual  whose  passage  on  board  the  Jtitylcr  I  have  engaged 
and  paid  for :  he  will  also  bring  you  this  long  letter,  for  the  ship  1  am 
referring  to  sails  in  an  hour,  and  the  letters  for  Europe  were  made  up 
and  the  bags  closed  last  night.  I  wished,  however,  to  report  to  you 


150  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  result  of  my  conference  with  the  governor  this  morning,  before 
finally  sealing  my  voluminous  packet. 

"  You  perceive,  therefore,  by  what  I  have  said,  that  Prince 
Djalma  will  be  forcibly  detained  here  for  at  least  a  month  ;  and  the 
opportunity  of  sailing  by  the  Ruyter  thus  lost,  it  will  be  entirely  im- 
possible for  the  young  Indian  to  be  in  France  before  the  13th  of  Fe- 
bruary in  the  coming  year. 

"  Thus  have  I,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  blindly  and  explicitly  fol- 
lowed your  directions,  considering  only  the  aim  and  END^  which 
should  justify  the  MEANS  employed.  You  assure  me  that  the  welfare 
of  society  requires  the  sacrifice  of  a  few  to  the  general  good,  and  I 
yield  implicit  obedience  to  your  words  and  commands,  passively  con- 
tenting myself  with  being,  what  all  should  be,  willing  to  become  a 
mere  machine  in  the  hands  of  my  superiors,  obeying  their  impulses, 
without  even  seeking  to  guess  the  motive  or  reason  ;  and  well  remem- 
bering that  high  and  impressive  command,  '  that,  to  promote  any  great 
or  holy  design,  we  should  place  ourselves  in  the  hands  of  our  superiors 
— as  mute,  as  passive,  and  as  passionless,  as  would  be  a  corpse  taken 
from  its  grave.'* 

"  Let  us  then  continue  to  act  in  firm  concert  and  entire  confidence 
in  each  other's  zeal,  for  we  live  in  troubled  times ;  circumstances  and 
events  may  alter,  we  can  know  no  change.  Obedience  and  courage, 
secrecy  and  patience,  cunning  and  boldness,  union  and  devotion,  be 
Tienceforth  the  watchwords  of  those  who  have  no  country  but  the 
universe,  no  family  but  our  brethren,  and  no  authority  but  the  Church 
of  Rome.  «  J.  V." 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mahal  the  smuggler  departed 
with  his  sealed  despatches  to  go  on  board  the  Ruyter :  but  at  the  ex- 
piration of  an  hour,  his  body,  evidently  strangled  by  the  Phansegars, 
was  found  among  the  rushes  of  a  wild  spot  he  had  to  pass  in  order 
to  reach  his  bark,  and  proceed  in  her  to  the  vessel  he  was  to  sail  in. 

The  Ruyter  had  been  gone  more  than  an  hour  when  the  body  of 
the  smuggler  was  first  discovered  ;  but  in  vain  did  M.  Joshua  cause  the 
strictest  search  to  be  made  for  the  voluminous  packet  entrusted  to 
him — not  a  trace  could  be  discovered  of  it,  or  the  letter  addressed  to 
the  captain  of  the  Ruyter,  recommending  Mahal  as  the  passenger  he 
was  to  expect :  neither  were  the  close  researches  made  after  Faringhea 
successful. 

The  dangerous  chief  of  the  Stranglers  was  never  again  seen  in 
Java. 

*  It  is  well  known  that  the  doctrine  of  passive  and  absolute  ohedience,  the  grand 
pivot  on  which  the  body  of  Jesuits  turned,  was  recalled  by  the  dying  words  of 
Loyola :  "  Let  each  member  of  this  association  be  in  the  hands  of  his  superiors  J.IKF  A 

CORPSE   DRAWN    FROM  THE  TOMB,— PERI NDE  AC  CADAVER." 


KH!^   I 

m 


MONSIEUR     ANI1    MADAME    DUPONT. 


151 
CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. —  M.  RODIN. 

THREE  months  have  passed  away  sinco  Djalroa  was  cast  into  prison 
at  Batavia,  accused  of  belonging  to  the  murderous  sect  of  the  Phause- 
gars  or  Stranglers..  The  scene  we  now  describe  is  in  France,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  month  of  February,  1832,  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardo- 
ville,  an  ancient  feudal  habitation,  situated  on  the  high  cliffs  of  the  coast 
of  Picardy,  not  far  from  St.  Valery,  a  very  dangerous  sea-shore,  where 
almost  every  year  ships  are  lost  in  gales  from  the  north-west,  which 
render  the  navigation  of  the  Channel  so  dangerous. 

In  the  interior  of  the  chateau  was  heard  the  roaring  of  the  wild 
tempest  which  had  arisen  in  the  night,  and,  at  intervals,  there  was  a 
loud  noise  resembling  a  discharge  of  artillery,  which  echoed  all  around, 
and  was  repeated  by  the  hollows  of  the  rocks.  It  was  the  sea,  which 
dashed  with  fury  against  the  high  cliffs  which  towered  around  the  old 
manor-house. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  daylight  had  not  pe- 
netrated the  windows  of  the  large  apartment  on  the  ground-floor  of  the 
chateau  ;  it  was  lighted  by  a  lamp,  before  which  was  seated  a  female  of 
about  sixty  years  of  age,  with  an  open  and  good-tempered  face, 
clothed  after  the  fashion  of  the  respectable  farmers'  wives  of  Picardy, 
and  occupied  with  needle-work,  although  it  was  so  early.  At  a  little 
distance  was  her  husband,  about  her  own  age.  He  was  seated  before 
a  large  table,  and  sorting  out  and  putting  into  small  bags  samples  of 
wheat  and  oats.  The  countenance  of  this  grey-haired  old  man  was 
intelligent  and  honest,  expressive  of  sound  sense  and  a  love  of  fair  deal- 
ing, and  lighted  up  by  a  look  of  mirthful  humour.  He  wore  a  cut- 
away coat  of  green  cloth,  high  tanned-leather  gaiters,  coming  above 
the  knees  of  his  black  velveteen  breeches. 

The  terrible  storm  which  was  raging  outside  seemed  to  make  this 
peaceable  interior  even  still  more  comfortable.  An  excellent  fire  was 
blazing  in  a  chimney-place  made  of  white  marble,  which  threw  the 
reflexion  of  its  cheerful  glare  on  the  carefully  dry-rubbed  floor.  No- 
thing could  be  more  gay  than  the  hangings  anil  curtains  of  old  Persian 
cloth,  with  red  Chinese  figures  on  a  white  ground ;  and  nothing  more 
pleasing  than  the  paintings  in  the  panels  of  the  room,  which  repre- 
sented village  scenes,  shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  in  the  style  of 
Watteau.  A  pendule  in  JSevres  biscuit,  rose-wood  furniture  inlaid 
with  buhl-work  and  of  old-fashioned  construction,  in  all  sorts  of  odd 
shapes,  twistings,  and  crooked  constructions,  completed  the  fitting-up 
of  the  apartment. 

The  tempest  continued  to  roar  without,  and  the  wind  from  time  to 
time  howled  in  the  chimney,  or  shook  violently  the  casements  of  the 
window.  The  man  who  was  occupied  in  assorting  the  samples  of 
grain  was  M.  Dupont,  the  land-steward  of  the  Chateau  de  Cardo- 
ville. 

"  Sainte  Vierge !  my  dear,"  said  his  wife  to  him,  "  what  awful 
weather  !  This  Monsieur  Rodin,  whose  arrival  the  head-steward  of 


152  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  Princess  de  Saint-Di/.ier  has  informed  us  we  are  to  expect  this 
morning,  has  selected  a  very  uncomfortable  day  for  his  journey." 

"  Why,  in  truth,  I  think  I  never  remember  such  a  fearful  tempest. 
If  M.  Rodin  never  saw  the  sea  in  a  rage,  he  may  to-day  amuse  him- 
self with  the  sight." 

"  Who  is  this  M.  Rodin  who  is  to  come  here  to-day,  mon  ami  T 

"  Ma  foi !  I  don't  know :  the  intendant  of  the  princess  desires 
me  in  his  letter  to  shew  him  every  attention,  and  obey  him  as  I  would 
my  master.  It  will  be  for  M.  Rodin  to  explain  himself,  and  for  me  to 
obey  his  orders,  since  he  comes  from  the  princess  herself." 

"  Why,  to  be  quite  precise,  it  is  from  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  that 
he  really  comes,  as  the  estate  belongs  to  her  since  the  death  of 
her  late  father,  the  Count-Duke  de  Cardoville." 

"  Yes,  but  the  princess  is  her  aunt,  and  her  chief  agent  does 
the  business  of  Mademoiselle  Adrienne ;  so,  whether  he  comes  from 
her  or  the  princess,  why  it's  all  the  same  thing." 

"  Perhaps  M.  Rodin  intends  to  purchase  the  estate,  although  the 
stout  lady  who  came  purposely  from  Paris  a  week  ago,  to  see  the 
chateau,  seemed  very  anxious  to  have  it." 

At  these  words  the  steward  smiled. 

"What  makes  you  laugh,  Dupont?"  inquired  his  wife,  who  was 
an  excellent  woman,  but  not  remarkable  for  the  brilliancy  of  her 
understanding  or  the  acuteness  of  her  penetration. 

"  I  laugh,"  replied  Dupont,  "  because  I  was  think'ing  of  the  face 
and  figure  of  this  stout,  this  enormous  woman.  Only  imagine  with 
such  an  appearance  that  any  female  should  call  herself  Madame  de 
Sainte-Colombe  f  Dieu  de  dieu !  what  a  saint  and  what  a  dove 
(colombe)  \  She  is  as  big  as  a  kilderkin,  with  a  voice  like  a  dram- 
drinker,  and  moustaches  as  thick  and  grey  as  a  grenadier  of  the  line  1 
And  I  heard  her  say  to  her  servant,  *  Come,  get  on,  my  trump ! '  And 
she  is  Sainte-Colombe  /" 

"  Really,  Dupont,  you  make  very  strange  remarks.  She  didn't 
choose  her  own  name,  you  know ;  and  as  to  her  beard,  poor  lady  !  she 
cannot  help  that." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  her  fault  if  she  calls  herself  De  la  Sainte-Colombe  ; 
you  can't  believe  that  it  is  her  real  name.  Ah,  my  poor  Catherine ! 
you  are  as  simple  as  ever." 

"  And  you,  my  poor  Dupont,  you  cannot  help  always  saying  little 
sharp  things.  Now  I  think  the  lady  looked  very  respectable.  The 
first  thing,  too,  that  she  asked  when  she  arrived  was  about  the  chapel 
belonging  to  the  chateau,  of  which  she  had  been  informed.  She 
declared  she  would  fit  it  up  again  :  and  when  I  told  her  that  there 
was  no  church  in  this  small  district,  she  appeared  quite  distressed  at 
being  deprived  of  a  cure  in  the  village." 

"  Yes — ah  !  yes — the  first  thing  your  parvenus  do  is  always  to 
play  the  charitable,  and  meddle  with  the  affairs  of  the  parish,  like  a 
great  lady." 

"  But  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  has  no  occasion  to  play  the 
great  lady,  for  she  is  so  already." 

"  She  a  great  lady  ?" 

"  Yes ;  why,  only  look  at  how  beautifully  she  was  dressed,  with 
her  shot-silk  gown  and  her  violet-coloured  gloves,  as  handsome  as 


THB  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILJ.E.— M.  RODIN.  153 

a  bishop's ;  and  then,  when  she  took  off  her  hat,  she  had  round  her 
false  hair  a  bandeau  of  diamonds,  and  ear-rings  of  diamonds  as  large  as 
my  thumb-nail,  and  rings  on  every  one  of  her  fingers!  Depend 
upon  it  she  is  a  person  of  consequence,  or  she  would  not  wear  so 
many  jewels  in  the  open  day." 

"  Um  I  um  !  you  are  a  very  clever  body." 

"  That  is  not  all." 

" Go  on — what  else?" 

"She  talked  of  nothing  and  nobody  but  dukes,  marquises, 
counts,  and  very  rich  people,  who  visited  her,  and  were  her  friends ; 
and  then,  when  she  saw  the  little  pavilion  in  the  park,  which  was  half- 
burnt  down  by  the  Prussians,  and  which  the  late  count  \vould  not 
repair,  she  said,  '  What  ruins  are  these  ?'  I  replied,  '  Madame,  this 
pavilion  was  burnt  down  when  the  allies  were  in  this  country.' 
'  Indeed,  uiy  dear,'  said  she ;  '  the  allies — the  good  allies — the  dear 
allies — they  and  the  Restoration  began  to  make  my  fortune.'  Then 
I  said  to  myself,  Dupont,  says  I,  '  Ah,  I  see,  she  is  an  ancient 
tinigree.' " 

"  Madame  de  Sainte-Colombe  ! "  shrieked  the  steward,  bursting 
with  laughter  ;  "  oh,  my  poor  wife !  my  poor  wife  !" 

"  Ah,  because  you  were  once  for  three  years  in  Paris,  you  think 
you  know  every  thing." 

"  Catherine,  my  dear,  let  us  talk  of  something  else ;  you  will  make 
me  say  something  1  do  not  wish.  There  are  things,  my  love,  which 
good  and  simple-hearted  creatures  like  you  ought  never  to  know." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  that,  but  pray  try  not  to  say 
such  ill-natured  things  of  people ;  for  if  Madame  de  Sainte-Coloinbe 
does  buy  the  estate,  you  wish  to  remain  as  steward,  don't  you  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  1  do,  for  we  are  growing  very  old,  Catherine,  dear ; 
and  having  been  here  for  twenty  years  we  have  been  too  honest 
to  save  money  for  our  old  age  ;  and,  inafoi  !  it  would  be  very  hard,  at 
our  time  of  life,  to  have  to  seek  another  home,  and,  perhaps,  not  find 
it.  Ah  !  what  I  regret  is  that  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  will  not  keep 
the  estate,  for  it  seems  that  it  is  she  who  will  sell  it,  and  that  the 
princess  did  not  wish  her  to  part  from  it." 

"  Mon  Dieit  !  Dupont,  you  do  not  surely  see  any  thing  very  extra- 
ordinary in  tho  fact  of  Ma'amselle  Adrienne's  desire  to  spend  some  of 
her  large  fortune,  so  young  as  she  is  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  thing  is  natural  enough  ;  Ma'amselle,  having  neither 
father  nor  mother,  is  her  own  mistress,  and  she  has  a  'cute  little  head 
of  her  own.  Don't  you  remember  ten  years  ago,  when  the  count,  her 
father,  brought  her  here  one  summer,  what  a  self-willed  young  lady 
she  was  ?  what  temper  ?  and  such  eyes  !—/<«'/»,  how  they  sparkled  and 
shone  even  then  !" 

"  'Tis  truth  to  be  said,  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  had  a  very  singular 
expression  in  her  look — very  strange  for  her  age." 

"If  she  has  grown  up  as  she  promised  to  do,  with  her  wild 
and  animated  countenance,  she  must  be  very  handsome  now,  in  spite 
of  the  rather  peculiar  hue  of  her  hair ;  for,  between  ourselves,  if 
she  was  a  little  shop-girl,  instead  of  a  damsel  of  high  birth,  every  body 
would  say  that  she  was  red-haired." 

"  For  shame  !  again  something  ill-natured." 


154  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Of  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  ?  Heaven  forbid  I  for  she  promised  to 
be  as  good  as  she  was  handsome ;  and  it  is  not  to  wrong  or  scandalise 
her  that  I  should  call  her  red-haired.  On  the  contrary :  for  I 
remember  that  her  locks  were  so  fine,  so  bright,  so  golden,  and  suited 
so  admirably  her  snow-white  skin  and  black  eyes,  that  I  would  not 
have  had  them  altered  if  I  could.  Therefore,  1  am  sure  that  now  this 
auburn  colour,  which  would  have  been  detrimental  to  others,  will 
render  Ma'amselle  Adrienne's  hair  only  more  charming ;  and  she  must 
now  be  a  real  wanton  little  sprite." 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  she  was  always  full  of  tricks  and  fun  ;  running  in 
the  park,  teasing  her  governess,  climbing  the  trees,  and  a  hundred 
little  funny  ways." 

"  I  agree  that  there  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  was  a  very  little  devil, 
but  then  so  full  of  sense,  kindness,  and  so  good-hearted !" 

"  She  was,  indeed.  Didn't  she  once  give  her  new  shawl  and 
merino  dress  to  a  poor  little  beggar-girl,  and  then  returned  to  the 
chateau  with  nothing  but  her  petticoat  on,  and  with  her  arms 
bare  ?" 

"  Yes,  heart,  plenty  of  heart,  wife ;  but  her  head  —  ah !  what 
a  head ! " 

"  Yes,  a  wild,  very  wild  head ;  and  I  fear  it  may  lead  her  into 
mischief;  for  it  seems  that  in  Paris  she  does  things — such  things  ! " 

"  What  things  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  I  dare  not  say." 

"  Come,  tell  away,  old  lady." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  worthy  housewife,  with  a  sort  of  em- 
barrassment and  concern,  which  shewed  how  deeply  such  enormities 
affected  her,  "they  do  say  that  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  never  sets 
foot  in  church  ;  that  she  lives  all  alone  in  an  idolatrous  temple  at  the 
end  of  the  garden  of  her  aunt's  hotel ;  that  she  is  waited  on  by  women 
in  masks,  who  dress  her  up  like  a  goddess,  and  she  scratches  them  all 
day  long,  for  she  gets  tipsy,  and  then  all  night  long  she  plays  on 
a  hunting-horn  of  solid  gold ;  and  all  this,  as  you  may  well  suppose, 
is  most  terribly  afflicting  and  annoying  to  her  poor  aunt  the  princess." 

At  this  moment  the  steward  burst  out  into  so  loud  a  fit  of 
laughter,  that  he  quite  interrupted  his  wife. 

"  Really  ! "  said  he,  when  he  had  finished ;  "  and  who  told  you  these 
fine  facts  about  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  ?" 

"  Why,  Rene's  wife,  who  went  to  Paris  to  see  a  child  she  had 
weaned ;  and  when  she  called  at  the  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier  she  saw 
Madame  Grivois,  her  godmother, — she,  you  know,  is  first  fenime- 
de-chambre  to  the  princess.  Well,  then,  this  Madame  Grivois  told  her 
all  this,  and  of  course  she  must  know  all  about  it  as  she  belongs  to  the 
household." 

"  Oh,  that  Grivois  is  a  nice  gossip — a  worthy  woman  !  Why,  not 
long  ago  she  was  one  of  the  gayest  ladies  I  ever  met  with  —  full 
of  tricks;  and  now  she  is  like  her  mistress,  so  pious  and  sanctimonious! 
Umph  I  why  she  is  now  a  devotee ! — like  mistress  like  maid.  And 
the  princess,  too— she  who  is  now  so  stiff-starched  and  very  correct — 
why  I  remember  the  time  when  she  used  to  play  fine  pranks :  about 
fifteen  years  ago  what  a  frolicsome  miss  was  she !  You  remember  that 
handsome  hussar  colonel  who  was  quartered  at  Abbeville  ?  You  must 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.— M.  RODIN.  155 

remember — an  emigrant  who  had  served  in  Russia,  and  to  whom  the 
Bourbons  gave  a  regiment  at  the  Restoration  !" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  very  well ;  but  there  you  go  again  with  your  ill- 
natured  remarks ! " 

"  Mafoi  !  not  I, — I  only  tell  the  truth.  The  colonel  spent  all  his 
time  at  the  chateau,  and  the  world  said  that  he  was  on  very  good  terms 
with  her  holiness — princess  of  to-day.  Ah  !  what  a  time  we  had  of  it 
then  !  Every  evening,  plays  or  fetes  at  the  chateau.  What  a  devil 
— what  a  rattler  that  colonel  was  I  How  well  he  acted  !  I  recollect, 
as  though  it  was  but  yesterday " 

The  steward  was  cut  short  in  his  recollections  by  a  stout  female 
servant,  wearing  the  Pieardy  costume  and  cap,  who  came  into  the  room 
in  a  hurry,  and  said  to  her  mistress, — 

"  Mistress,  there  is  some  gentleman  who  is  asking  for  master ;  he 
lias  just  come  from  St.  Valery  in  a  post-chaise,  and  he  says  his  name 
is  Monsieur  Rodin." 

"  M.  Rodin  ! "  said  the  steward  ;  "  ask  him  in  instantly." 


A  minute  afterwards  M.  Rodin  entered.  He  was,  according  to 
custom,  more  than  humbly  dressed.  He  made  a  low  bow  to  the 
steward  and  his  wife,  who,  on  a  sign  from  her  husband,  left  the  room. 
The  cadaverous  countenance  of  M.  Rodin,  his  almost  imperceptible 
lips,  his  small  reptile-like  and  half-closed  eyes,  nearly  covered  by  the 
placid  upper  lid,  and  his  clothes  almost  beggarly,  combined  to  render 
his  appearance  anything  but  prepossessing.  Yet  this  man,  when  it 
was  requisite  or  politic,  knew  how,  by  a  devilish  skill,  to  assume  so 
much  kindness  and  sincerity,  to  make  his  phrases  so  agreeable  and  so 
insinuating,  that,  by  degrees,  the  disagreeable  and  repulsive  effect 
which  his  first  appearance  conveyed  was  destroyed,  and  he  almost  al- 
ways succeeded  in  seizing  his  dupe  or  victim  in  the  twisting  folds  of 
his  hypocrisy  by  the  aid  of  his  language,  which  was  as  apparently 
yielding  as  it  was  honeyed  and  treacherous.  It  is  said  that  the 
ugly  and  the  evil  have  their  fascination  as  well  as  the  handsome  and 
the  good. 

The  honest  steward  looked  at  this  individual  with  surprise,  when 
he  recollected  the  pressing  recommendations  of  the  intendant  of  the 
Princess  de  Saint-Dizier.  He  expected  a  totally  different  personage, 
and  could  hardly  conceal  his  astonishment  when  he  said, — 

"  I  have  the  honour  of  seeing  M.  Rodin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  here  is  another  letter  from  the  intendant  of  the 
Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Pray,  sir,  draw  near  the  fire  whilst  I  read  this  letter.  The 
weather  is  so  bad,"  said  the  steward,  with  much  respect,  "  may  I  offer 
you  any  thing?" 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  sir  ;  I  leave  again  in  an  hour." 

Whilst  M.  Dupont  was  reading,  M.  Rodin  cast  around  him  a 
scrutinising  glance  at  the  interior  of  the  room  ;  for,  like  a  skilful  man 
of  the  world,  he  often  drew  his  most  correct  and  useful  inferences 
from  appearances,  which  often  betray  the  taste  and  habits,  and  also 
afford  some  idea  of  character;  but,  for  once,  his  sagacity  was  at 
fault. 


156  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  steward,  after  he  had  finished  the 
letter ;  "  the  intendant  renews  his  instructions  that  I  will  place  myself 
entirely  at  your  orders." 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  give  you  but  very  little  trouble,  and  not  detain  you 
long." 

"  Sir,  it  is  an  honour." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  I  know  how  fully  you  must  be  employed,  for,  as  I 
came  in,  I  was  struck  with  the  order  and  perfect  arrangement  which  I 
observed  every  where — a  proof,  my  dear  sir,  of  the  regularity  and  care 
which  you  display." 

"  Sir — really — you  flatter  me." 

"  Flatter  you  !  a  poor  old  man  like  me  does  not  think  of  that :  but, 
to  business.  You  have  here  a  room  which  is  called  the  Green 
Chamber?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  it  is  the  apartment  which  the  late  Count-Duke  de  Car- 
doville  used  as  his  own  study." 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  conduct  me  to  it." 

"  Unfortunately,  sir,  that  is  impossible.  After  the  death  of  the 
count,  and  when  the  seals  were  removed,  a  quantity  of  papers  were 
shut  up  in  the  chamber  in  a  cabinet,  and  the  lawyers  took  the  keys 
away  with  them  to  Paris." 

"  The  keys !  oh,  here  they  are  I "  said  M.  Rodin,  shewing  the 
steward  a  bunch,  on  which  was  a  large  key  and  several  small  ones. 

"  Ah,  sir,  that  alters  the  case.     You  want  some  papers,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certain  papers,  and  a  small  wooden  casket  with  silver 
hinges ;  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir ;  I  have  often  seen  it  on  the  table  of  the  count  when  he 
was  writing,  and  it  must  be  in  the  large  china  cabinet,  of  which  you 
have  the  key." 

"  Be  so  good,  then,  as  lead  me  thither,  as  I  have  the  authority  of 
the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  is  the  princess  quite  well  ?  " 

"  Perfectly ;  she  is,  as  usual,  wholly  absorbed  in  heavenly  things." 

"  And  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  ?  " 

"  Alas,  my  dear  sir !"  said  M.  Rodin,  with  a  deep  and  commise- 
rating sigh. 

"  Merciful  Heavens  !  what  can  you  mean  ?  Surely,  nothing  has 
happened  to  that  excellent  young  lady  ?" 

"  You  do  not  understand  me." 

"  Is  she  ill  ? — Speak,  I  beseech  you,  and  terminate  my  uneasiness." 

"  No,  no  I  she  is  well.  Unhappily,  her  health  is  only  equalled  by 
her  extreme  beauty." 

"  Unhappily  !  "  repeated  the  registrar,  in  extreme  amazement. 

"  Too  truly  I  said  so,"  replied  Rodin ;  "  for  when  youth,  beauty, 
and  high  health  are  joined  to  a  perverse  spirit,  and  a  bold,  reckless  dis- 
regard of  all  that  is  wise  and  good,  it  becomes  rather  a  source  of  regret 
that  all  these  personal  advantages,  so  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  one 
who,  probably,  has  not,  for  violence  of  conduct  and  unbridled  humours, 
her  equal  upon  earth,  should  probably  lead  but  to  perdition.  But 
let  me  pray  of  you,  my  dear  sir,  to  speak  of  other  things  —  the  subject 
is  too  painful  for  me,"  added  M.  Rodin,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion,  and 
wiping  the  corner  of  his  right  eye  with  the  tip  of  the  little  finger  of 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CAUDOVILLE. — M.  RODIN.  157 

his  left  hand,  as  though  anxious  to  conceal  the  tear  that  had  gathered 
there. 

The  registrar  did  not  perceive  the  tear,  but  he  saw  the  action,  and 
was  much  struck  with  the  alteration  in  M.  Rodin's  voice ;  he  therefore 
replied,  in  a  tone  of  sympathising  regret,  "  I  have  been  thoughtless 
enough  to  distress  you,  I  fear — let  me  crave  your  pardon  for  my  inad- 
vertence ;  I  was  not  aware  — 

"  Nay,  my  good  friend,  it  is  rather  for  me  to  ask  you  to  excuse  this 
involuntary  weakness  —  tears  are  rare  visitors  at  my  age;  but  had  you 
seen,  as  I  did,  the  despair  of  that  excellent  princess,  whose  only  fault 
has  been  that  of  having  been  too  indulgent  —  perhaps,  weakly  so  —  to 

her  niece ;  and  so  to  have  encouraged  her  in  her But  again, 

let  me  beg  we  may  change  the  subject  of  our  discourse,  my  very 
dear  sir." 

After  a  momentary  silence,  during  which  M.  Rodin  appeared 
struggling  to  regain  his  usual  calmness,  he  said  to  M.  Dupont, 

"  As  far  as  regards  the  green  chamber,  then,  my  dear  sir,  one 
part  of  my  mission  is  fulfilled  ;  there  is  still  another  matter  to  talk  over 
with  you,  and,  before  I  commence  it,  I  must  recall  to  your  memory  a 
circumstance  you  may  probably  have  forgotten  —  the  fact  of  a  Mar- 
quis d'Aigrigny,  then  a  colonel  of  hussars  quartered  at  Abbeville, 
having,  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  since,  passed  some  time  here." 

"  Ah  !  I  recollect  him  well,"  answered  Dupont;  "  a  fine,  soldierly, 
gentlemanlike  man,  as  you  would  see  in  a  thousand.  I  was  talking  of 
him  to  my  wife,  a  very  little  while  ago ;  he  was  the  very  life  and  soul 
of  the  chateau  ;  and  such  a  clever  actor  !  — he  always  played  the  wild, 
rollicking  characters,  in  all  the  private  theatricals  with  which  the  com- 
pany used  to  amuse  themselves.  I  think  I  see  him  in  the  '  Ttvo  Ed- 
monds.' He  used  to  play  the  part  of  the  drunken  soldier  admirably  ! 
And  what  a  voice  he  had  !  —  when  he  sung  the  music  of  Joconde  you 
might  have  heard  a  fly  move  its  wings ;  every  body  said  there  was  not 
such  a  singer  in  Paris." 

Rodin,  after  complacently  listening  to  the  registrar,  proceeded : 

"  You  know,  doubtless,  that  after  a  terrible  duel  with  a  violent 
Buonapartist,  named  General  Simon,  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  (whose 
private  secretary  I  have  now  the  honour  of  being)  determined  upon 
forsaking  the  world,  and  devoting  himself  to  the  church  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  —  what  a  sacrifice  !  —  so  brave  a  soldier  I" 

"  Yes,  this  brave  soldier,  so  rich,  so  noble,  so  justly  esteemed  and 
every  where  sought  after,  resigned  all  these  advantages  to  assume  a 
humble  black  robe ;  and  spite  of  his  name,  his  rank,  his  high  family 
connexions  and  influence,  combined  with  his  reputation  and  eloquence 
as  the  first  preacher  of  the  day,  he  is  just  what  he  was  fourteen  years 
ago  —  a  simple  abbe,  instead  of  being  an  archbishop  or  a  cardinal,  as 
many  are  who  do  not  possess  either  his  merits  or  virtues." 

M.  Rodin  said  this  in  so  natural  and  unaffected  a  manner,  expres- 
sive of  his  own  entire  conviction  of  the  truth  and  justice  of  all  he 
asserted,  that  M.  Dupont  involuntarily  exclaimed, 

"  What  a  fine,  what  a  noble  picture  you  have  drawn  I " 

"  Nay,"  answered  M.  Rodin,  with  a  well-assumed  air  of  ingenuous- 
ness, "  nay,  my  dear  friend,  you  overrate  it; —  to  a  heart  like  that  of 
M.  d'Aigrigny,  such  conduct  was  the  mere  simple  dictate  of  his  excel- 


158  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

lent  nature.  But  among  his  many  fine  qualities,  he  particularly  pos- 
sessed that  of  never  overlooking  merit  in  others,  or  of  allowing  men  of 
honour,  probity,  and  conscientious  discharge  of  duty,  to  go  unre- 
warded. Thus,  therefore,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont,  he  has  not  failed  to 
think  of  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  M.  le  Marquis  has  condescended  to " 

"  Only  three  days  since  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  in  which  you 
were  particularly  mentioned." 

"  He  is,  then,  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  He  is  shortly  expected  to  arrive  there.  About  three  months  ago 
he  set  out  for  Italy ;  during  the  journey,  he  received  the  afflicting  in- 
telligence of  the  death  of  his  mother,  who  had  gone  to  pass  the  autumn 
at  one  of  the  estates  belonging  to  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier." 

"  Indeed  !     I  was  not  aware  of  that." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  the  blow  fell  on  him  with  a  crushing  weight,  for  he 
was  most  tenderly  attached  to  his  parent.  But  we  must  all  resign  our- 
selves to  the  will  of  Providence." 

"  And  may  I  be  permitted  to  inquire  what  it  was  M.  le  Marquis 
did  me  the  honour  to  say  in  his  letter  respecting  me  ?" 

"  I  am  about  to  inform  you  :  —  in  the  first  place,  you  must  know 
this  chateau  is  sold ;  the  agreement  was  signed  the  evening  previous  to 
my  quitting  Paris." 

"  Ah,  now  you  renew  all  my  fears." 

"  As  regards  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  I  am  fearful  the  new  proprietor  may  not  choose  to 
continue  me  in  my  present  office  of  registrar." 

"  Really,  this  is  a  fortunate  coincidence  !  for  it  was  precisely  re- 
specting your  situation  I  wished  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"Certainly;  and  knowing  full  well  the  interest  the  marquis  takes  in 
you,  I  am  most  anxious,  most  desirous  for  you  to  retain  your  employ- 
ment, and  I  will  do  all  and  every  thing  in  my  power  to  effect  so  desir- 
able an  end,  if " 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend  and  benefactor  ! "  exclaimed  Dupont,  inter- 
rupting Rodin  ;  "  what  thanks  do  I  not  owe  you  !  Heaven  has  surely 
sent  you  to  my  assistance." 

"  Nay,  now  you  flatter  me,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont ;  and  I  fear  you 
will  think  less  of  my  zeal  to  serve  you  when  you  find  I  am  compelled 
to  attach  certain  conditions  to  the  service  I  propose  to  render  you." 

"  Oh,  if  that  be  all,  let  me  beseech  you,  sir,  speak  —  say  what 
you  wish  me  to  do :  you  will  find  me  all  obedience." 

"  The  new  occupant  of  the  chateau  is  an  elderly  lady,  worthy  of 
the  highest  consideration  and  respect :  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  is 
the  name  of  this  excellent  lady." 

"  Bless  me  I"  cried  the  steward,  suddenly  breaking  in  upon  Rodin's 
eulogium  on  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe ;  "  is  it  possible  that  the 
lady  who  has  bought  the  chateau,  and  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe, 
are  the  same  ?  " 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  her,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  about  a  week  ago,  she  came  here  to  look  at  the  estate. 
My  wife  insists  upon  it  she  is  a  great  lady ;  but,  between  ourselves, 
from  certain  words  she  let  fall  — •" 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE. — M.  RODIN.  159 

"  Ah !  you  arc  an  accurate  observer,  I  see,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont ; 
your  opinion  evinces  your  correct  penetration.  Madame  de  la  Sainte- 
Colombe  is  not  what  may  be  styled  a  lady,  either  by  birth  or  educa- 
tion. The  fact  is,  I  rather  believe  she  was  formerly  neither  more  nor 
less  than  a  milliner  in  the  Palais  Royal.  You  see  I  use  no  reserve  with 
you,  my  excellent  friend." 

"  And  that,  I  suppose,  was  what  she  meant  when  she  talked  of  the 
numerous  French  and  foreign  noblemen  who  were  in  the  habit  of  fre- 
quenting her  house." 

"  Most  likely,  when  sent  by  their  wives  to  order  hats  and  caps,  &c. 
However,  one  thing  is  very  certain,  that  she  continued  to  amass  a  large 
property ;  and  having  been  in  her  youth,  as  well  as  more  mature  age, 
indifferent  —  alas!  more  than  indifferent  —  to  the  well-being  of  her 
soul,  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  is  now  bent  upon  following  out  a 
most  praiseworthy  and  excellent  course  of  life,  and  it  is  this  very  reso- 
lution which  renders  her,  as  I  said  just  now,  worthy  of  universal  respect 
and  veneration  :  for  what  is  more  calculated  to  deserve  it  than  a  hearty 
and  sincere  forsaking  of  all  evil  ways,  and  a  clinging  to  that  which  is 
good  ?  But  that  the  repentance  of  this  lady  may  be  lasting,  and  her 
eternal  welfare  effectually  secured,  we  must  have  your  co-operation,  my 
worthy  friend." 

"  And  in  what  manner  can  I  possibly  assist  the  work  ?  " 

"  You  may  do  much ;  and  in  this  manner,  for  example.  You 
have  no  church  in  this  hamlet,  which  is  situated  at  equal  distances 
between  its  two  adjacent  villages.  Well,  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Co- 
lombe being  naturally  anxious  to  choose  between  the  two  ministers 
belonging  to  these  churches,  and  aware  that  yourself  and  Madame 
Dupont  have  long  inhabited  this  part  of  the  country,  will  be  sure  to 
inquire  of  you  or  your  wife  the  respective  merits  of  the  different 
clergymen." 

"  Oh,  then  we  shall  not  be  long  in  answering  that  question  ;  the 
cure  of  Danicourt  is  one  of  the  best  men  breathing." 

"  And  that  very  piece  of  information  is  precisely  what  you  must 
conceal  from  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe." 

"  You  amaze  me  ! " 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  must  boast  to  her,  day  and  night,  of  the 
surpassing  virtues  and  goodness  of  the  cure  of  the  other  palish,  M.  de 
Koiville,  in  order  that  this  dear  lady  may  be  induced  to  confide  to 
him  the  salvation  of  her  immortal  soul." 

"  And  why  must  this  preference  be  accorded  ?" 

"For  a  very  good  and  sufficient  reason.  If  you  or  your  wife  — 
no  matter  which  —  can  induce  Madame  do  la  Sainte-Colombe  to 
choose  as  I  wish  her  to  do,  you  may  roly  upon  being  continued  in 
your  present  office  of  steward :  to  that  I  pledge  my  honour,  and,  what 
I  once  promise,  I  never  fail  to  perform." 

"  I  doubt  not,  monsieur,  your  having  the  full  power  to  continue 
me  in  my  present  situation,"  said  Dupont,  perfectly  convinced  by  the 
tone  and  look  of  authority  assumed  by  Rodin  of  his  being  quite  in 
oarnt-st ;  "  but  I  should  much  wish  to  know " 

"  One  word  more,"  said  Rodin,  interrupting  him.  "  It  is  but  right, 
and  I  am  quite  willing  to  explain  to  you  why  I  so  particularly  insist 


160  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

upon  your  aiding  me  in  leading  the  new  owner  of  the  chateau  to  prefer 
one  cure  to  another.  I  should  be  deeply  grieved,  indeed,  to  allow  you 
to  fancy  even  the  shadow  of  an  interested  motive  existed,  when  my 
only  reason  is  a  desire  to  perform  a  good  and  charitable  action.  The 
cure  of  Roiville,  for  whom  I  am  solicitous  of  procuring  your  kind 
offices,  is,  in  the  first  place,  a  person  in  whose  welfare  M.  1'Abbe 
d'Aigrigny  takes  a  lively  interest;  then,  as  a  second  reason,  I  would 
urge  his  having  an  aged  mother  entirely  dependent  on  him ;  thirdly, 
I  am  perfectly  convinced  that,  were  he  entrusted  with  the  spiritual 
guidance  of  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  he  would  be  enabled  to 
effect  a  more  decided  improvement  than  any  other  person  less  endowed 
with  patience  and  zeal.  And  then,  as  in  all  probability,  so  wealthy  a 
penitent  as  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  would,  from  time  to  time, 
evince  her  grateful  conviction  of  his  valuable  exertions  in  her  behalf 
by  an  occasional  offering  of  some  of  her  superfluous  riches,  it  follows, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  poor  mother  would  profit  by  the  cir- 
cumstance. And  so  you  see,  my  excellent  friend,  the  whole  history  of 
this  great  machination,  which  so  deeply  surprised  and  puzzled  you. 
Directly  I  became  aware  of  this  lady's  intention  of  buying  the  estate 
contiguous  to  the  parish  of  our  protege,  I  wrote  to  apprise  M.  le 
Marquis  of  it ;  and  he,  immediately  recollecting  you,  replied  to  the 
information  by  despatching  a  most  kind  letter,  in  which  he  spoke  in 
the  highest  terms  of  your  zeal  and  ability,  requesting  me  to  solicit  of 
you  the  trifling  favour  I  have  just  named,  and  which,  as  you  perceive, 
it  is  so  much  to  your  interest  to  grant :  for  I  repeat — and  I  will  prove 
my  words — that  it  rests  entirely  with  me  to  continue  you  as  land- 
steward  or  to  nominate  another  in  your  place." 

"  Permit  me  to  observe,"  said  Dupont,  after  a  few  moments'  re- 
flection—  "  and  you  are  so  candid  and  polite  that  I  fear  not  to  offend 
you  by  adopting  a  similar  candour — in  proportion  as  the  cure  of 
Danicourt  is  beloved  and  respected  throughout  the  country,  so  is 
M.  le  Cure  of  Roiville,  to  whom  it  is  your  wish  to  give  the  preference, 
disliked  and  dreaded  for  his  bigoted  and  intolerant  spirit.  And, 
besides " 

«  Go  on." 

"  People  do  say " 

"  Well,  what  do  they  say  ? — let  us  hear." 

"  It  is  generally  reported,  and  almost  universally  believed,  he  is — 
a  Jesuit ! " 

At  these  words  M.  Rodin  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  so  natural 
and  hearty,  that  the  poor  steward  was  rivetted  to  the  spot  with  asto- 
nishment at  mirth  so  unusual  with  M.  Rodin,  and  also  with  the  sin- 
gularly sinister  look  expressed  on  his  countenance,  even  while  his 
features  were  convulsed  with  irrepressible  laughter. 

"  A  Jesuit  I "  repeated  M.  Rodin,  whose  hilarity  seemed  to  increase 
at  the  very  idea  of  any  thing  so  ridiculous  being  urged  against  any 
man.  "A  Jesuit! — ha!  ha!  ha!  My  dear  M.  Dupont,  you  must 
excuse  me ;  but  how  is  it  possible  a  person  of  your  good  sense,  intel- 
ligence, and  knowledge  of  the  world,  can  listen  to  such  exceeding  non- 
sense ?  A  Jesuit  I  Are  there  such  things  nowadays  do  you 
believe?  Can  you  really  put  faith  hi  these  absurd  Jacobinical  tales — 


THE  CHATEAU   DE  CARDOV1LLE. —  M.  UODIN.  161 

these  hobgoblins  of  decayed  Liberalism  ?  I'll  wager  you  what  you 
please  that  you  have  been  reading  all  these  4  raw-hcad-and-bloody-bone ' 
stories  in  the  Constitutionel  !  " 

"  Still,  sir,  folks  say " 

"  Say  !  why  what  is  there  that  idle,  gossiping,  mischief-making 
people  will  not  say  ?  But  wise  and  enlightened  men,  such  as  yourself, 
never  listen  to  the  floating  scandal,  always  prefaced  as  what  persons 
say;  they  busy  themselves  only  with  their  own  affairs,  and  do  not 
sacrifice  to  a  love  of  silly  tattling  an  excellent  situation,  which  will 
ensure  them  comfort  and  independence  for  life :  for  I  tell  you  candidly, 
that  unless  you  pledge  yourself  to  obtain  for  my  protege  the  preference 
1  desire  as  regards  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  I  shall  be  obliged, 
though  with  regret,  to  appoint  your  successor  as  land-steward  here 
without  delay." 

"But — but,  sir!"  exclaimed  poor  Dupont ;  "  surely  you  will  not 
consider  me  to  blame  if  the  lady,  hearing  the  other  cure  every  where 
extolled  and  eulogised,  should  prefer  him  to  the  one  you  wish  me  to 
recommend  ?" 

"  Of  course  not ;  but  that  will  not  occur.  On  the  contrary, 
Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  hearing  the  cure  of  Roiville  the  con- 
stant theme  of  praise  and  panegyric  by  people  of  long  standing 
and  good  reputation  in  the  place — like  you  and  your  wife,  for  instance, 
whom  she  will  daily  and  hourly  be  in  the  habit  of  mixing  with  —  and 
then  hearing  from  the  same  individuals  the  most  fearful  and  atrocious 
character  of  the  minister  of  Danicourt,  will  infallibly  prefer  my  protege, 
and  you  will  remain  land-steward  for  the  rest  of  your  days." 

"How  can  I  calumniate  an  innocent  man?"  exclaimed  Dupont, 
thoroughly  bewildered  in  the  midst  of  this  fresh  mental  difficulty. 
"  How  can  I  utter  falsehoods  against  one  so  good  —  so  amiable  ?" 

"  My  dear  Monsieur  Dupont,"  returned  M.  Rodin,  with  an  air 
of  painful  reproach,  "I  trust  you  do  not  so  far  misunderstand  me  as  to 
suppose  I  am  urging  you  to  do  any  thing  against  your  conscience.  1 
was  merely  putting  a  simple  case  before  you — a  plain  supposition. 
You  are  anxious  to  be  retained  in  your  present  situation,  and  1  merely 
pointed  out  a  certain  means  of  obtaining  your  wish.  I  offered  no 
advice  in  the  matter ;  it  is  for  you  to  decide  as  to  its  being  a  chance 
to  accept  or  refuse — pray  let  that  be  understood." 

"  But,  M.  Rodin  • 

"  One  word  more  ;  or,  rather,  one  condition  more,  which,  indeed, 
is  of  greater  importance  than  the  other.  Unfortunately,  the  ministers 
of  our  holy  religion  are  but  too  frequently  known  to  take  advantage  of 
the  weakness  of  mind  and  character  of  their  penitents,  and  to  turn 
their  very  distaste  for  worldly  possessions  either  to  their  own  account 
or  that  of  others.  Now,  though  I  believe  our  protege  wholly  incapable 
of  conduct  so  base,  yet,  to  effectually  guard  my  own  responsibility, 
and,  indeed,  yours  also — you  having  all  the  merit  of  introducing  the 
spiritual  adviser  of  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe — I  could  wish  you 
to  write  me,  twice  in  each  week,  a  full  and  minute  detail  of  all  you  see, 
hear,  or  observe,  in  the  conduct,  character,  and  habits  of  Madame  de 
la  Sainte-Colombe — even  the  books  she  reads,  &c.  &c. :  for  it  is  in  these 
daily  minulue  the  influence  of  a  spiritual  director  is  most  clearly  traced, 
and  I  wish  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  as  to  the  conscientious  manner  in 

11  M 


162  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

which  my  protege  performs  his  duty,  without  his  being  at  all  aware  of 
it.  So  that  if  it  occurred  to  you  that  any  thing  at  all  blamable  wen- 
going  on,  I  should  be  immediately  apprised  of  it  through  your  weekly 
journal,  which,  I  must  impress  upon  you,  should  be  most  exact  and 
circumstantial,  even  to  the  very  most  trifling  detail." 

"  But  surely,  sir,"  remonstrated  the  unfortunate  steward,  "  this  is 
punitive  espionage!" 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear  M.  Dupont,  I  cannot  allow  you  to  bestow 
so  injurious  an  appellation  on  one  of  the  most  soothing  blessings 
of  life.  Confidence  /  confidence,  my  friend !  I  ask  you  not  to 
become  a  spy — I  start  at  the  word  with  the  same  horror  and  disgust 
you  do :  I  but  ask  you,  in  strict  confidence,  remembeV  to  write  me 
from  day  to  day  all  that  passes  here,  even  to  the  most  minute  details. 
On  these  two  conditions,  which  cannot  be  separated  from  each  other, 
you  remain,  as  you  now  are,  land-steward  to  this  estate.  Otherwise, 
with  deep  regret,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  appoint  another  to  serve 
Madame  de  la  Sajntc-Colombe." 

"Ah,  sir  I"  cried  Dupont,  trembling  with  emotion,  "  I  conjure  you 
to  be  generous,  without  imposing  these  hard  conditions.  This  situation 
is  the  sole  maintenance  of  myself  and  wife,  and  we  are  now  too  old  to 
seek  a  fresh  one :  do  not,  therefore,  allow  the  probity  of  forty  years' 
standing  to  struggle  against  the  horrors  of  want  and  misery,  lest  I  sink 
under  the  temptation." 

"  My  very  good  friend,  you  really  talk  like  a  mere  child ;  pray 
shew  more  good  sense.  By  this  day  week  you  will  have  the  goodness 
to  let  me  have  your  ultimate  decision." 

"  Oh,  pity  us  I  I  beseech  you  not  to  leave  me  so  sore  a  temptation 
to  contend  with.  Pray,  pray  pity  us  I" 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  violent  noise,  re-echoed 
by  the  surrounding  heights. 

"What  can  that  be?"  inquired  M.  Rodin, 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  the  words  than  the  same  noise  was 
repeated,  with  even  an  increased  kmdness. 

"  Guns  are  firing  1 "  said  Dupont,  hastily  rising  from  his  seat : 
"  probably  some  vessel  is  in  distress,  or  requires  a  pilot." 

"  Husband  1"  exclaimed  the  steward's  wife,  as  she  hastily  entered 
the  apartment,  "  you  may  see  from  the  terrace  a  steam-vessel  and  a 
ship  out  at  sea,  almost  entirely  dismasted ;  the  waves  arc  bringing 
them  rapidly  on  to  this  coast.  The  three-masted  ship  fired  the  signal- 
guns  you  heard  just  now.  Oh,  they  must  perish  J, — .there  is  pot  the 
slightest  hope  of  escape." 

"  Dreadful !"  cried  M.  Dupont,  taking  his  hat  and  preparing  to 
go  out ;  "  and  to  think  we  can  only  look  on,  and  behold  our  fellow- 
creatures  perish !" 

"Are  there  no  means  of  succouring  these  unfortunate  vessels?" 
inquired  M,  I !  <n  liu. 

"  Alas !  none.  Should  they  be  once  drawn  on  these  rocks,  once 
caught  among  the  breakers,  no  human  power  can  avert  their  fate. 
Since  the  commencement  of  the  equinox  two  vessels  have  already 
gone  to  pieces  on  this  coast." 

"  And  to  lose  not  only  their  lives,  but  all  the  valuables  they  have 
on  board  1"  exclaimed  M.  Rodin  ;  "  it  is,  indeed,  most  melancholy  !" 


THE  TEMPEST.  163 

"  With  such  a  tempest  as  at  present  rages,"  said  the  steward, 
addressing  his  wife,  "  I  tear  the  chances  of  saving  the  passengers  are 
very  slight.  Nevertheless  I  will  do  what  I  can  :  I  will  take  all  the 
farm-people  out  with  me,  and  place  them  in  different  parts  of  the 
cliffs,  so  as  to  afford  a  probability  of  aiding  any  unfortunate  beings 
who  may  be  washed  ashore.  Do  you  light  large  fires  in  every  room ; 
get  dry  linen  and  garments  ready ;  prepare  warm  cordials  and  restora- 
tives. I  dare  not  hope  to  save  the  poor  souls,  but  at  least  it  shall  not 
be  for  want  of  trying.  Will  you  accompany  me,  M.  llodin  ?" 

"  I  should  esteem  it  a  sacred  duty  to  do  so,"  replied  M.  Rodin, 
who  felt  no  inclination  to  expose  himself  to  the  fury  of  the  storm, 
"  could  I  entertain  a  hope  of  being  in  any  way  serviceable  ;  but  at  my 
age,  unfortunately,  good-will  is  all  that  is  left  me,  for  my  strength  no 
longer  seconds  it.  If,  therefore,  your  amiable  wife  will  direct  me  to 
the  green  chamber,  I  will  take  from  it  the  various  articles  I  came  to 
fetch  away,  and  then  immediately  return  to  Paris,  for  I  am  already 
much  pressed  for  time." 

"  As  you  please,  sir:  Catherine  will  conduct  you  to  the  apartment 
you  desire." 

"  And  you,"  added  the  steward,  speaking  to  the  servant  who  stood 
by,  "  go  and  ring  the  alarm-bell  as  loudly  as  you  can,  and  bid  the 
people  on  the  farm  coine  to  me  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  with  ropes  and 
pulleys." 

"  Dear  husband !"  said  the  steward's  wife,  alarmed  for  his  safety, 
"  let  me  conjure  you  to  be  careful." 

"  Never  fear,  my  kind  Catherine  ;  I  will  be  cautious  for  your 
sake.  Now,  one  kiss  to  bring  me  luck,  and  I  am  gone,"  returned  the 
old  man,  who  then  ran  hastily  out  of  the  room,  saying, 

"  Quick,  quick  I  By  this  time  there  probably  does  not  remain  a 
single  plank  of  either  of  these  unfortunate  vessels. ' 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  the  immovable  Rodin,  "  may  I  ask  you 
to  conduct  me,  without  further  delay,  to  the  green  chamber.  I  really 
am  losing  very  precious  time." 

"  Please  to  follow  me,  sir,"  said  poor  Catherine,  drying  the  tears 
which  filled  her  eyes  at  the  thoughts  of  her  husband's  danger,  with 
whose  dauntless  spirit  and  unflinching  courage  she  was  too  well 
acquainted  not  to  fear  he  would  peril  a  life  so  dear  to  her. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  TEMPEST. 

THE  sea  was  a  fearful  sight  to  contemplate. 

Enormous  waves  of  dark-green  hue,  crested  with  a  white  foam, 
marked  tht-ir  rise  and  fall,  by  turns  high  and  deep,  against  a  broad 
streak  of  red  light  which  overspread  the  horizon. 

Above  that  were  piled  huge  masses  of  deep  black  clouds,  and, 
driven  rapidly  forward  by  the  violence  of  the  wind,  a  quantity  of  light 
clouds  of  a  reddish  grey  hurried  over  the  lowering  sky. 

The  pale  winter's  sun,  before  it  was  obscured  in  the  midst  of  the 
heavy  clouds  behind  which  it  was  slowly  rising,  threw  a  few  cold 


164  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

gleams  on  the  raging  billows,  and  lighted  up  here  and  there  the  foam- 
ing crests  of  the  highest  waves. 

A  belt  of  snow-white  foam  boiled  and  dashed  furiously,  xintil  it 
was  lost  in  the  distance  on  the  reefs  with  which  this  rocky  and  dan- 
gerous coast  is  studded. 

In  the  distance,  half-way  up  a  rocky  promontory  which  ran  a  long 
way  into  the  sea,  was  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville.  Its  glass  windows 
shone  in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  its  brick  walls  and  slated  and  pointed 
roof  stood  out  in  bold  relief  in  the  midst  of  the  vapoury  sky. 

A  large  ship  in  distress,  which  had  nothing  left  but  fragments  of 
her  sails  fastened  to  the  stumps  of  her  masts,  was  driving  fast  towards 
the  shore. 

Now  it  dived  down  into  the  depths  of  the  yawning  waves,  and  now 
it  rose  again  on  the  summit  of  the  chafing  waters. 

A  light  is  seen,  followed  by  a  dark  sound,  hardly  to  be  heard 
amidst  the  roar  of  the  tempest.  It  was  a  gun  —  the  last  signal  of  dis- 
tress of  this  vessel  which,  in  spite  of  all  that  could  be  done,  must  be 
lost  and  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  iron-bound  coast. 

At  this  moment  a  steam-boat,  with  her  stream  of  black  smoke 
above  her,  coming  from  the  east  and  going  westward,  was  making 
every  effort  to  clear  off  from  the  coast  and  leave  the  reefs  on  her  lee. 

The  dismasted  ship,  according  to  the  direction  in  which  she  was 
driving,  must  of  necessity  pass  before  the  steamer  in  her  fatal  course 
towards  the  rocks,  on  which  wind  and  tide  impelled  her. 

In  a  moment  a  violent  blast  of  wind  took  the  steam-ship  on  the 
weather-bow,  and  a  mountainous  wave  dashed  furiously  over  the 
deck;  and  in  a  moment  the  chimney  was  washed  away,  the  paddle- 
box  broken,  and  one  of  the  wheels  utterly  destroyed.  A  second  wave 
dashing  over  the  stern  threw  the  vessel  quite  out  of  her  course ;  and 
so  much  damage  was  done,  that  she  no  longer  answered  helm,  but 
drove  rapidly  towards  the  shore  in  the  same  direction  as  the  three- 
master. 

The  latter,  although  further  off  from  the  reefs,  yet  offering  to  the 
wind  and  waves  a  larger  surface  than  the  steam-vessel,  drove  along 
quicker  in  their  common  track,  and  they  soon  came  so  near  together 
that  there  was  every  dread  that  the  two  ships  must  come  in  col- 
lision ;  a  new  danger  to  be  added  to  the  horrors  of  the  now  certain 
shipwreck. 

The  three-masted  ship  was  English,  and  called  the  Black  Eagle. 
She  had  come  from  Alexandria  with  the  passengers  who  had  arrived 
from  India  and  Java  by  the  Red  Sea,  on  board  of  the  steam-boat,  the 
Ruyter,  and  left  that  vessel  to  cross  the  Isthmus  of  Suez.  The  Black 
Eagle,  on  leaving  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  had  touched  at  the  Azores, 
whence  it  sailed  direct,  and  was  beating  up  for  Portsmouth  when  it 
was  struck  by  a  gale  from  the  north-east,  which  is  so  prevalent  in  the 
Channel. 

The  steamer  was  the  William  Tell,  coming  from  Germany  by  thd 
Elbe,  and  having  left  Hamburg  it  was  making  for  Havre. 

These  two  vessels,  the  sport  of  the  mighty  waves,  driven  by  the 
tempest  and  drawn  by  the  tide,  were  running  on  to  the  reefs  with 
fearful  rapidity. 

The  deck  of  both  ships  presented  a  terrible  sight.     The  death  of 


THE     STORM. 


1  tui'l'iii  :    rii:i|.ii::iii  nn.l  Iluii       July 


THE  TEMPEST,  165 

all  the  passengers  seemed  certain,  for  a  tremendous  sea  was  dashing 
against  the  deep  rocks  at  the  foot  of  a  precipitous  cliff. 

The  captain  of  the  Black  Eagle  was  standing  erect  at  the  stern, 
holding  on  by  a  part  of  the  broken  mast ;  and,  even  in  this  extremity, 
gave  his  orders  with  calmness  and  decision.  The  boats  had  all  been 
washed  overboard,  except  a  skiff,  which  it  was  impossible  to  make  use 
of;  and  the  only  chance  of  safety,  in  case  the  ship  did  not  go  to 
pieces  the  moment  she  went  on  the  reefs,  was  to  establish,  by  means 
of  a  cable  from  the  rocks,  a  sort  of  go-and-come —  a  communication, 
which  is  full  of  hazard,  between  the  shore  and  the  wreck  of  a  ship. 

The  deck  was  covered  with  passengers,  whose  cries  and  alarm 
increased  the  universal  confusion.  Some,  stupitied  with  terror,  clung 
to  the  shrouds  and  rattlins,  awaiting  death  in  a  state  of  insensibility  : 
others  wrung  their  hands  in  despair,  or  rolled  themselves  on  the  deck, 
uttering  fierce  imprecations. 

Hera  were  women  on  their  knees  at  prayer,  whilst  others  hid  their 
faces  in  their  hands,  as  though,  to  hide  death  from  their  gaze.  A 
young  mother,  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  holding  her  infant  closely  pressed 
against  her  bosom,  went  from  one  sailor  to  another,  beseeching  them, 
and  offering  a  purse  full  of  gold  and  gems,  if  they  will  but  save  her 
child. 

These  cries,  fears,  and  tears,  contrasted  with  the  silent  and  gloomy 
resignation  of  the  sailors,  some  of  whom,  seeing  death  staring  them  in 
the  face,  took  off  a  portion  of  their  clothing,  resolved  to  try  at  the  last 
moment,  by  a  last  vigorous  effort,  to  save  their  lives  by  buffeting  with 
the  waves ;  others,  renouncing  all  hope,  braved  death  with  a  stoical 
indifference. 

Here  and  there  touching  or  terrible  episodes  were  seen,  having 
their  rise  in  deep  and  sad  despair. 

A  young  man,  of  eighteen  or  twenty  years  of  age,  with  jet  black 
hair  and  eyes,  and  a  bronzed  complexion,  with  features  of  perfect  and 
most  beautiful  regularity,  gazed  on  this  scene  of  desolation  and  terror 
with  that  calm  resignation  which  is  peculiar  to  those  who  have  often 
braved  great  perils.  Wrapped  in  a  cloak,  with  his  back  leaning 
against  the  netting  of  the  bulwarks,  lie  maintained  himself  in  his  position 
by  placing  his  feet  against  the  side  of  the  cabin  bulkhead.  At  this 
moment  the  unhappy  mother,  who,  with  her  child  in  her  arms  and 
gold  in  her  hand,  had  in  vain  addressed  herself  to  the  sailors,  entreating 
them  to  preserve  her  child,  seeing  the  young  man  with  the  dark  com- 
plexion, threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  held  up  her  child  before  him  in 
an  attitude  of  inexpressible  anguish.  The  young  man  looked,  shook 
his  head  mournfully,  and  pointed  to  the  furious  waters,  but,  with  an 
expressive  gesture,  seemed  to  promise  the  despairing  mother  that  IM> 
would  save  the  infant  if  possible ;  and  then  she,  with  intense  agony  of 
joy,  bathed  his  dark  hands  with  her  bitter  but  grateful  tears. 

On  another  part  of  the  deck  of  the  Black  Eagle  was  a  passenger 
who  appeared  animated  by  the  most  active  pity. 

He  was  hardly  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  long  and  <5urling  light 
hair  waved  around  his  attractive  features.  He  wore  a  black  cassock 
and  white  band.  Going  to  the  most  despairing,  and  from  one  to  the 
other,  he  gave  them  words  of  pious  hope  and  resignation;  and  to  have 


166  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

heard  him  console  some,  encourage  others,  in  language  full  of  zeal, 
tenderness,  and  perfect  charity,  he  might  have  been  supposed  unaware 
or  regardless  of  the  perils  he  participated. 

In  this  beautiful  and  mild  face  might  be  seen  cool  and  holy  intre- 
pidity, a  religious  abstraction  from  all  earthly  thoughts,  as,  from  time 
to  time,  he  raised  his  full  blue  eyes,  beaming  with  gratitude,  love,  and 
composure,  as  though  humbly  thanking  God  for  having  placed  him  in 
one  of  those  formidable  positions  of  trial  in  which  a  man  of  high- 
wrought  feeling  and  courage  can  devote  himself  for  his  fellow-creatures, 
and,  if  not  save  all,  at  least  die  with  them,  pointing  the  way  to  Heaven. 
In  truth,  he  might  be  deemed  an  angel,  sent  by  the  Creator  to  render 
loss  cruel  the  blows  of  an  inexorable  fatality. 

Singular  contrast  I— not  far  from  this  young  man,  as  glorious  as 
an  archangel,  was  a  being  who  resembled  the  Demon  of  Evil. 

Boldly  stationed  on  the  shattered  end  of  the  bowsprit,  where  he 
held  on  by  means  of  some  broken  ropes,  this  man  looked  around  on  all 
that  was  passing  on  the  deck. 

A  fierce,  brutal,  and  horrid  delight  overspread  his  yellow  features, 
of  that  peculiar  tint  M'hich  characterises  the  offspring  of  a  white  and 
Mulatto  Creole.  He  only  wore  a  shirt  and  cotton  drawers,  and  round 
his  neck  was  suspended  by  a  cord  a  long  tin  case,  such  as  that  in  which 
soldiers  keep  their  discharge. 

The  more  the  danger  increased,  the  closer  the  three-master  neared 
the  fatal  reefs,  and  the  more  they  drew  near  the  steam-vessel  (which 
collision  threatened  to  destroy  both  ships,  even  before  they  should  be 
dashed  on  the  rocks),  the  more  did  the  fiendish  joy  of  this  passenger 
reveal  itself  in  desperate  delight.  He  seemed  desirous  of  hastening,  by 
his  savage  impatience,  the  work  of  destruction  which  was  now  so 
imminent. 

To  see  him  feed  greedily  on  all  the  agony,  the  terror,  and  despair- 
ings  which  were  displayed  before  him,  he  might  be  taken  for  an  apostle 
of  one  of  those  bloody  divinities  who,  in  barbarous  climes,  preside  over 
murder  and  slaughter. 

The  Slack  Eagle,  driven  by  the  wind  and  the  towering  billows, 
now  neared  the  William  Tell  so  closely,  that  from  the  former  vessel 
the  passengers  were  seen  collected  on  the  deck  of  the  Tell,  which  was 
in  a  sinking  state. 

Her  passengers  were  but  few.  The  sea  that  struck  her,  by  carry- 
ing away  the  paddle-box  and  injuring  the  wheel,  had  also  carried  away 
nearly  all  the  bulwarks  on  that  side  ;  and  the  waves,  at  every  moment 
washing  over  the  breach  they  had  made,  swept  the  deck  with  irresist- 
ible violence,  carrying  away  in  each  rush  of  waters  several  victims. 

Amongst  the  passengers  who  seemed  saved  from  the  one  peril 
but  to  be  dashed  in  pieces  on  the  rocks,  or  crushed  by  the  shock  of  the 
two  meeting  vessels,  was  a  group  which  claimed  the  tenderest,  the  most 
painful  interest. 

Standing  quite  aft  was  a  tall  old  man  with  bald  head  and  grey 
moustache,  who  had  tied  round  his  body  a  long  piece  of  rope  which 
was  fastened  to  the  ship's  side ;  and  thus  secured,  he  clasped  in  his 
arms,  and  hugged  tightly  to  his  breast,  two  young  girls  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years  of  age,  half-wrapped  up  in  a  reindeer-skin  cloak  ;  a  large 


THE     J-HII'WHKCK. 
I',    ion. 


•  II        4,,,, I  i 


THE  TEMPEST.  167 

dog,  dripping  with  water,  and  barking  furiously  at  the  angry  waters, 
was  at  their  feet. 

These  young  girls,  embraced  in  the  old  man's  arms,  clung  also 
tightly  to  each  other;  but,  far  from  looking  around  them  with  fear,  they 
raised  their  eyes  to  Heaven,  as,  though  full  of  confidence  and  ingenuous 
hope,  they  were  expecting  to  be  saved  by  the  interposition  of  some 
supernatural  power. 

A  fearful  and  horrid  cry  was  uttered  by  all  the  passengers  on  board 
both  vessels,  which  resounded  far  above  the  rage  of  the  tempest. 

At  the  moment  when,  dipping  down  into  the  abyss  of  a  monster- 
wave,  the  steamboat  presented  her  broadside  to  the  bow  of  the  three- 
master,  the  latter,  lifted  up  on  high  by  a  mountain  of  water,  was  sus- 
pended as  it  were  in  air  above  the  William  Tell,  for  the  moment 
which  preceded  the  collision  of  the  two  vessels. 

It  was  a  spectacle  of  sublime  horror  which  no  pencil  can  paint. 

Yes,  during  such  catastrophes — quick  as  thought— we  may  some- 
times retain  pictures  so  rapidly  sketched  by  the  mind's  eye,  that  they 
seem  but  as  a  flash  of  lightning. 

Thus  when  the  Slack  Eagle,  uplifted  by  the  waves,  was  about  to 
descend  upon  the  William  Tell,  the  young  man  with  the  archangel's 
countenance  and  light  and  flowing  hair,  stood  upright  in  the  bow  of 
the  three-master,  ready  to  dash  into  the  sea  to  save  some  victim  from 
the  closing  waters. 

He  then  saw  on  board  the  steamboat,  which  was  fully  visible  to 
him  from  his  elevated  position,  two  young  females,  who  stretched  to- 
wards him  their  hands  in  supplication. 

They  seemed  to  recognise  him,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
ecstasy — of  religious  adoration  I 

For  a  second,  and  in  despite  of  the  tempest's  din-— the  coming 
wreck  —  the  looks  of  these  three  beings  met. 

The  features  of  the  young  man  then  expressed  a  sudden,  a  deep 
commiseration  ;  for  the  two  girls,  with  joined  hands,  implored  his  aid 
as  their  expected  rescuer. 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  struck  down  by  the  fall  of  a  piece  of 
the  bulwark,  was  prostrate  on  the  deck. 

Soon  all  disappeared ! 

A  volume  of  deluging  waters  rushed  impetuously  over  the  Black 
Eagle,  and  that  ship  and  the  William  Tell  dashed  furiously  against 
each  other  in  a  torrent  of  boiling  foam. 

At  the  fearful  collision  of  these  two  masses  of  wood  and  iron,  which 
grounded  against  each  other,  the  timbers  quivered  and  parted.  There 
was,  too,  a  harrowing  cfy: 

A  cry  of  agony  and  of  death  ! 

One  cry,  raised  by  a  hundred  human  creatures  sinking  simultane- 
ously into  the  abyss  of  waters  I 

And  then  nothing  was  seen  ! 

A  few  moments  after,  in  the  hollows  or  on  the  summits  of  the 
waves,  might  be  seen  the  broken  timbers  of  the  sunken  ships,  and 
here  and  there  the  contracted  arms,  the  wan  and  despairing  faces,  of 
some  wretches  trying  to  reach  the  reefs  of  the  shore  at  the  risk  of  being 
dashed  on  them  by  the  rebounding  waves,  which  fell  there  in  all  their 
violence. 


168  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.  —  THE  SHIPWRECKED. 

WHILE  the  steward  proceeded  to  the  coast,  in  hopes  of  saving  such 
of  his  fellow-creatures  as  might  have  been  spared  from  the  inevitable 
destruction  of  the  two  vessels,  M.  Rodin,  conducted  by  Catherine  to 
the  green  chamber,  had  employed  himself  in  selecting  the  various 
articles  he  was  to  convey  to  Paris. 

A  couple  of  hours  had  thus  passed  away,  when  M.  Rodin,  who  had 
almost  forgotten  the  fearful  fate  of  the  wrecked  passengers,  and  took 
not  the  slightest  interest  in  the  exertions  each  inhabitant  of  the  cha- 
teau was  making  to  save  them  from  a  watery  grave,  returned  to  the 
apartment  ordinarily  occupied  by  the  steward,  a  room  which  opened 
upon  a  long  gallery.  It  was  entirely  empty  when  he  entered  it,  bear- 
ing under  his  arm  a  small  ebony  casket,  with  silver  clasps,  blackened 
and  tarnished  by  time,  while  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  half-closed 
great  coat  might  be  seen  the  end  of  a  large  red  morocco  pocket-book. 

Had  the  cold,  impassive  features  of  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny's  confi- 
dential secretary  been  capable  of  expressing  joy  in  any  other  manner 
than  by  a  sardonic  grin,  now  was  the  hour  when  he  might  have  shone 
out  all  radiant,  for  things  had  hitherto  all  combined  to  work  to  the  end 
he  desired,  and  M.  Rodin's  reflections  were  of  the  most  pleasing  and 
happy  description. 

First  placing  the  casket  on  a  table,  he  said,  in  a  low  and  well- 
satisfied  tone, 

"  All  goes  well :  these  papers  have  been  prudently  left  here  until 
now,  for  it  was  at  all  times  requisite  to  be  on  our  guard  against  the 
diabolical  spirit  of  that  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  who  appears  to  know, 
instinctively,  things  she  never  could  have  been  told  by  any  human 
being.  However,  happily  the  hour  is  fast  approaching  when  we  shall 
have  no  further  occasion  to  fear  her.  Her  fate  will  be  a  cruel  one, 
'tis  true;  but  it  must  be  so ;  such  proud  and  independent  natures  as  she 
possesses  must  be  treated  as  our  born  foes  :  a  character  like  hers  is  at 
all  times  inimical  to  our  designs,  but  when  it  rises  in  direct  opposition, 
and  threatens  to  overthrow  our  dearest  schemes,  our  most  important 
plans — then — then,  indeed,  down  with  it  and  with  herl — no  mercy! — it 
were  worse  than  childish  to  think  of  shewing  any.  As  for  La  Sainte- 
Colombe,  there  we  are  safe ;  the  steward  is  gained,  for,  spite  of  the  fool's 
scruples  of  conscience,  his  dread  of  losing  his  situation  will  compel  him 
to  serve  us.  I  shall  keep  him,  because  he  will  answer  my  purpose  better 
than  a  stranger ;  and  the  veiy  fact  of  his  having  lived  here  the  last 
twenty  years,  will  effectually  prevent  that  ignorant  and  weak-minded 
Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  from  entertaining  the  slightest  mistrust 
of  him.  Once  let  me  place  her  in  the  hands  of  our  protege  of  Roiville, 
and  I  will  answer  for  the  rest.  The  path  of  these  stupid,  worldly- 
minded  females  is  uniformly  the  same  :  in  their  youth  they  serve  the 
devil ;  in  mature  age  they  lead  others  to  serve  him ;  in  their  old  age 
they  live  in  horrible  dread  of  him ;  and  this  fear  we  must  excite  and 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.  —  THE  SHIPWRECKED.  169 

work  upon  until  we  have  induced  her  to  bequeath  to  us  the  chateau  de 
Cardoville,  which,  from  its  isolated  position,  would  form  an  excellent 
college.  Thus  far,  then,  all  works  as  we  could  wish  it.  As  for  the 
aft'air  of  the  medals,  we  are  fast  approaching  the  13th  of  February, 
and,  by  the  last  accounts  from  Joshua,  Prince  Djalma  is  doubtless 
still  kept  a  prisoner  by  the  English,  in  some  distant  part  of  India, 
otherwise  I  should  have  heard  from  Batavia;  while  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon  will  be  detained  a  month  longer  at  Leipsic.  Nothing 
can  be  better  than  all  our  exterior  relations ;  and  as  for  the  state  of 
our  homo  affairs " 

M.  Rodin  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Madame  Du- 
pont,  busily  engaged  in  her  benevolent  preparations  to  receive  her 
shipwrecked  guests. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  she,  speaking  to  a  stout  servant  who  was  assist- 
ing her,  "  light  a  good  fire  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  set  this  warm 
wine  on  the  hob  ;  we  may  expect  your  master's  return  every  minute." 

"  Well,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Rodin,  "do  you  expect  to  save  any 
of  these  poor  creatures  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  say ;  my  husband  has  been  gone  these  two 
hours,  and  my  knowledge  of  his  undaunted  courage  and  resolution, 
where  there  is  any  good  to  be  done,  makes  me  dreadfully  uneasy  :  for, 
indeed,  lie  carries  his  daring  spirit  beyond  the  limits  of  prudence." 

"  Ha!"  muttered  Rodin  to  himself;  "courageous  even  to  impru- 
dence!— I  like  not  that !" 

"  And  now,"  resumed  Catherine,  "  I  am  putting  fresh  clothes  and 
linen  to  air  by  the  fires — Heaven  grant  it  may  be  but  as  serviceable 
as  I  wish  it." 

"  Let  us  at  least  hope  that  it  will,"  answered  Rodin,  blandly.  "  I 
assure  you,  my  dear  madam,  I  felt  considerable  regret  that  neither  my 
age  nor  my  infirmities  permitted  me  aiding  your  worthy  husband  in  his 
labour  of  love.  I  equally  regret  being  unable  to  learn  the  result  of  his 
exertions,  and  to  congratulate  him  if  successful,  for  I  am  unfortunately 
compelled  to  depart  immediately — my  very  moments  are  reckoned. 
May  I  beg  of  you  to  order  my  carriage  to  be  got  ready  instantly." 

"  Directly,  sir,"  said  Catherine,  going. 

"  One  word,  my  dear,  my  excellent  Madame  Dupont.  You  are  a 
woman  of  good  sound  sense  and  admirable  judgment;  I  will,  therefore, 
tell  you  that  I  have  pointed  out  a  way  by  which,  if  your  husband 
chooses,  he  may  continue  to  hold  his  present  situation." 

"  Is  it  possible!"  exclaimed  Catherine,  in  a  glow  of  delight :  then, 
clasping  her  hands,  she  added,  "  Oh,  what  thanks  do  we  not  owe  you 
for  your  goodness  I  What  would  become  of  people  at  our  age  if  my 
husband  was  to  lose  his  present  employment?" 

"  I  have  only  added  two  trifling  conditions  to  my  promise  of  ob- 
taining his  further  engagement  here,  and  these  conditions  are  mere 
nothings.  However,  I  shall  leave  him  to  explain  all  that  to  you." 

"  Ah,  sir !  Heaven  has  sent  you  to  save  and  to  serve  us  I " 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  overvalue  my  poor  services,  which  are  only  given 
on  two  conditions,  as  I  before  said." 

"  Were  there  a  hundred,  we  should  most  gratefully  accept 
them  I  Think,  for  a  moment,  sir,  what  would  become  of  us,  were 


170  THE  WAKDBfttHG  JEW. 

M.  Dupont  forced  to  leave  his  situation  hero.     Alas !  we  must  starve, 
for  we  have  saved  nothing  ! " 

"  I  may  reckon,  I  see,  upon  your  kind  co-operation  in  the  matter; 
and  for  your  husband's  sake,  and  the  interests  of  both  of  you,  endea- 
vour to  persuade  him  not  to  reject  the  only  chance  of  escaping  from 
instant  dismissal." 

"Madam! — mistress!"  exclaimed  a  servant,  rushing  breathlessly 
into  the  chamber ;  "  master  has  returned  ! " 

"  Has  he  many  persons  with  him  ?  " 
"  No,  madam  :  he  is  alone." 

"  Alone  ?     Quite  alone  ?  " 

<s  Yes,  madam,  quite. 

A  few  seconds  only  elapsed  when  M.  Dupont  entered  the  room,  his 
clothes  were  streaming  with  wet,  and  his  leathern  gaiters  covered  with 
mud  and  clay ;  while,  in  order  to  prevent  his  hat  being  blown  away  by 
the  tremendous  gusts  of  wind,  he  had  tied  it  on  his  head  by  means  of 
his  cravat,  which  was  placed  over  the  crown  and  knotted  under  his  chin. 

".  Oh,  how  thankful  I  am  to  see  you  back  safe  and  sound ! "  said  his 
wife,  affectionately  embracing  him.  "  Indeed,  I  was  very  uneasy  ! " 

"  Up  to  the  present  moment  we  have  only  saved  three  !  " 

"  God  be  praised,  my  worthy  M.  Dupont  I "  said  M.  Rodin,  piously 
casting  up  his  eyes  and  hands ;  "  your  efforts  have  not  been  wholly 
in  vain ! " 

"Three!  only  THREE!  Merciful  Father,  how  dreadful!"  said 
Catherine. 

"  I  am  only  speaking  of  those  I  saw  myself,  near  the  small  bay  of 
Goelands ;  let  us  hope  that  along  other  parts  of  the  coast  a  still  greater 
number  may  have  found  safety." 

"  True,  dear  husband  !  and,  happily,  all  parts  of  this  coast  are  not 
as  dangerous  as  in  our  immediate  neighbourhood." 

"  And  where  are  these  poor  creatures,  so  benevolently  snatched  by 
you  from  the  jaws  of  death  ?  "  said  M.  Rodin,  who  could  not  avoid  re- 
maining a  little  while  longer,  and  thought  himself  obliged  to  feign  an 
interest  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  They  are  slowly  proceeding  along  the  cliffs  by  the  aid  of  our 
people.  Poor  things  I  they  are  so  much  exhausted  they  cannot  walk  very 
fast ;  so  I  thought  I  would  hurry  homo  to  re-assure  my  wife  (who  is 
always  anxious  about  me),  and  to  give  some  necessary  orders  for  their 
accommodation.  In  the  first  place,  my  dear,"  said  the  steward,  speak- 
ing to  Catherine,  "  you  must  get  some  female  attire  ready*" 

"  Is  there,  then,  a  woman  among  the  persons  saved  ?  " 

"  There  are  two  young  girls,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age  at  the 
utmost  —  mere  children,  but  so  lovely  ! " 

"  Poor  little  things  1 "  uttered  M,  Rodin,  in  a  voice  of  affected 
commiseration. 

"  They  owe  their  lives  to  the  individual  by  whom  they  are  accom- 
panied ;  and  a  noble  fellow  he  is,  too !  a  real  hero  ! " 

«  A  hero  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  just  fancy " 

"  You  shall  tell  me  all  this  by  and  by.  First  of  all,  take  off  that 
wet  coat,  and  slip  on  this  nice  dry  drefsing-gown,  and  take  a  hearty 


THE    ORPHANS    DISCOVERED. 
P.  171. 


i.«n<Km:  Chapman  aii'l  Hall.     May  I.  l»|. 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.  —  THE  SHIPWRECKED.  171 

drink  of  this  hot  spiced  wine,  for  you  are  shivering  with  the  cold  of 
those  wet  garment.*." 

<c  I  will  not  refuse  so  good  an  offer,  for  I  feel  cold  as  death.  I  was 
saying  that  the  person  who  saved  these  young  girls  was  a  hero ;  and 
certainly  the  courage  he  displayed  exceeded  arty  thing  I  ever  heard  or 
read  of.  When  I  left  the  house  with  all  the  men  I  could  collect,  we 
descended  by  the  little  winding  path  from  the  extreme  point  of  the 
cliff  till  we  reached  its  base.  You  know  the  little  bay  of  Goelands, 
which  is  fortunately  protected  from  the  swell  of  the  sea  by  five  or 
six  enormous  blocks  of  stone—well,  at  the  extremity  of  the  bay  what 
do  you  think  we  found  ?  Why,  the  two  young  girls  I  was  telling 
you  of,  quite  insensible,  their  feet  still  resting  in  the  water,  but  their 
bodies  reclining  against  a  rock,  as  though  some  one  had  placed  them 
there  after  having  withdrawn  them  from  the  violence  of  the  sea." 

"  Poor,  dear  young  creatures !  what  a  piteous  tale ! "  said  M. 
Rodin,  applying,  as  usual,  the  tip  of  the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand  to 
the  corner  of  his  right  eye,  as  though  to  dry  a  tear,  which  was  rather 
dittieult  to  find  there. 

"  What  most  struck  me,  was  the  perfect  resemblance  they  bore  to 
each  other,"  added  the  steward  ;  "  which  was  so  remarkable,  that  I 
should  say,  unless  you  were  in  the  daily  habit  of  seeing  them,  it  would 
be  quite  impossible  to  know  one  from  the  other." 
"  Twin  sisters,  no  doubt,"  said  Madame  Dupont. 
"  One  of  these  poor  young  things,"  pursued  the  steward,  "  held 
tightly  clasped  between  her  icy  fingers  a  small  bronze  medal,  suspended 
around  her  neck  by  a  chain  of  the  same  metal." 

M.  Rodin  generally  observed  a  stooping  position,  as  though  bent 
with  age  and  infirmities;  but  he  suddenly  sprung  up  at  these  words, 
while  a  slight  tinge  of  ascending  blood  diffused  itself  over  his  usually 
colourless  countenance.  In  any  other  individual  these  trifling  alter- 
nations might  have  passed  unnoticed ;  but  in  a  person  who,  like  M. 
Rodin,  had  long  habituated  himself  to  control  each  impulse,  and  dissi- 
mulate every  emotion,  they  indicated  a  most  violent  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing and  idea.  Hastily  approaching  the  steward,  he  inquired,  in  a  voice 
which  almost  resisted  even  his  master-hand  to  subdue  the  agitation  of, 

"  Did  you  observe  'what  device  or  inscription  this  medal  bore  ? 
Some  pious  relic,  I  should  guess,  by  the  extreme  care  evinced  by  the 
poor  girl  to  preserve  it,  even  in  what  she  might  have  supposed  her 
dying  moments." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  answered  the  steward,  coldly,  "  I  was  too  much  en  • 
gaged  with  the  condition  of  the  poor  half-drowned  children  to  think 
or  care  about  the  medal." 

"  And  the  resemblance  between  these  young  persons  is  very  great, 
I  think  you  said?" 

"  So  great  that  I,  for  one,  would  not  undertake  to  say  I  should  be 
ablo  to  know  which  wtu  which.  In  all  probability  the  poor  girls 
have  lost  one  if  not  both  their  parents,  for  I  observed  they  were  dressed 
in  deep  mourning." 

"  Ah  !  dressed  in  mourning!"  cried  M.  Rodin,  with  a  second  start. 
"  How  very  sad  !     So  very  young,  and  already  perhaps  orphans  I " 
said  Madame  Dupont,  wiping  away  the  tears  which  rose  from  her  kind- 
hearted  sympathy. 


172  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  steward,  "  we  removed  the  poor  things,  all 
fainting  as  they  were,  to  a  more  convenient  spot,  where  the  sand  was 
harder  and  drier.  While  we  were  busied  in  endeavouring  to  recall 
them  to  life,  we  saw  the  head  of  a  man  appear  just  over  one  of  the 
rocks,  which  he  was  endeavouring  to  climb,  grasping  feebly  with  one 
hand  ;  we  hastened  to  him,  and,  happily,  just  in  time  to  save  him  from 
being  carried  off  by  the  raging  sea,  for  his  strength  was  entirely  ex- 
hausted, and  just  as  we  reached  him  he  fell  quite  lifeless  into  the  arms 
of  our  men.  This  noble  fellow,  it  seems,  not  contented  with  having 
displayed  such  admirable  courage  in  preserving  the  two  girls,  wished 
to  attempt  to  rescue  a  third  person  also,  to  whom,  after  having  placed 
the  poor  young  things  out  of  risk  of  drowning  against  the  cliffs,  he 
wished  to  return,  amid  all  the  violence  of  the  sea,  which  continually 
threw  him  back  upon  the  rocks ;  his  last  effort  was  to  try  to  cling  on 
by  one  hand  to  the  masses  of  weed  and  wild-grass  which  grew  from  the 
crevices,  but  his  strength  had  quite  failed  him,  and  we  were  barely  in 
time  to  save  him  from  perishing." 

"  You  may  well  say  he  acted  nobly!" 

M.  Rodin,  bending  downwards  till  his  head  almost  rested  on  his 
breast,  appeared  not  to  hear  any  part  of  this  conversation  ;  his  conster- 
nation, his  surprise,  increased,  even  as  he  reflected  upon  the  singular 
events  of  the  last  three  hours.  These  two  young  girls,  attired  in  deep 
mourning,  their  age,  their  singular  resemblance  to  each  other,  the 
medal  around  the  neck  of  one  of  them,  could  be  no  other  than  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  ;  but  by  what  unaccountable  chance  had 
they  been  participators  in  the  horrors  of  the  late  shipwreck  ?  How 
had  they  obtained  their  liberty  ?  How  managed  to  free  themselves 
from  their  imprisonment  at  Leipsic  ?  And  how  was  it  he  had  never 
been  apprised  of  the  fact?  Could  they  have  contrived  to  make 
their  escape?  or  had  they  been  set  at  liberty?  And,  above  all,  why 
had  he  not  been  duly  informed  of  all  that  had  transpired  ?  These 
secondary  thoughts,  which  presented  themselves  in  crowds  to  the  mind 
of  M.  Rodin,  were  lost  in  the  one  overwhelming  reflection — these  chil- 
dren of  General  Simon  were  on  the  spot,  to  defeat  the  web  so  skilfully, 
so  artfully  spun,  and  which  had  cost  such  sleepless  nights  and  days  to 
perfect,  now,  by  their  presence,  utterly  destroyed  and  rendered 
abortive. 

"  When  I  speak  of  the  saviour  of  these  two  poor  girls,"  continued 
the  steward,  addressing  his  wife,  and  without  observing  the  deep  reverie 
of  M.  Rodin,  "  I  dare  say  you  picture  to  yourself  a  strong,  herculean 
person ;  but,  bless  you !  nothing  of  the  kind.  My  hero  is  almost 
boyish  in  his  appearance — so  slight,  so  fair,  and  with  such  delicate 
features  and  light  curling  hair  I  The  poor  fellow,  when  we  found  him, 
had  on  only  his  shirt,  a  pair  of  black  knee-breeches,  and  a  pair  of 
black  worsted  stockings,  which  certainly  struck  me  as  being  a  very 
strange  style  of  dress  ;  so  I  left  the  poor  fellow  a  large  cloak  to  wrap 
himself  up  in." 

"  It  was  a  curious  way  to  be  dressed  in,  certainly,"  answered  Ca- 
therine ;  ••  sailors  never  wear  such  garments  as  that." 

"  Besides,  though  the  vessel  he  belonged  to  was  English,  I  fancy 
my  hero  was  a  Frenchman,  for  he  spoke  our  language  as  well  as  you 
or  I  do.  But  what  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes  was  to  see  the  two 


THE  CHATEAU  DE  CARDOVILLE.  —  THE  SHIPWRECKED.  173 

poor  girls,  directly  they  came  to  themselves,  go  down  on  their  knees, 
and,  looking  at  him  with  an  air  of  religious  admiration,  render  thanks 
to  him  for  their  safety,  as  though  he  had  been  a  god ;  then  they  looked 
anxiously  around,  as  though  seeking  some  other  person,  after  which 
they  uttered  a  few  words,  and  threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms, 
sobbing  as  though  their  hearts  would  break." 

"  How  distressing  !  alas,  how  many  unfortunate  victims  may  not 
this  storm  have  swallowed  up  ! " 

"  Before  we  quitted  the  cliffs  the  sea  had  cast  ashore  seven  dead 
bodies,  portions  of  the  wreck,  chests,  &c.  I  summoned  the  custom- 
house officers  and  coast-guard,  and  they  will  remain  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  day  to  keep  watch ;  and  if,  as  I  hope,  any  other  un- 
fortunate beings  should  be  enabled  to  reach  the  shore  with  life,  I 
gave  orders  that  they  should  immediately  be  brought  hither.  But 
listen  —  I  hear  the  sound  of  voices !  Yes,  'tis  the  poor  shipwrecked 
souls  I " 

So  saying,  the  steward,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  rushed  to  open 
the  door  of  the  room,  which,  as  we  before  mentioned,  led  out  upon  a 
long  gallery,  while  M.  Rodin,  biting  his  flat  white  nails  in  convulsive 
and  impotent  rage,  awaited  with  deep  anxiety  the  arrival  of  the 
strangers ;  and  quickly  did  a  most  touching  picture  present  itself  to 
his  view. 

From  the  bottom  of  this  gallery,  which  was  dark,  and  only  lighted 
on  one  side  by  some  lancet-paned  windows,  three  persons,  conducted 
by  a  countryman,  advanced  slowly. 

This  group  consisted  of  two  young  girls  and  the  intrepid  person 
to  whom  they  owed  their  lives.  Rose  and  Blanche  were  one  on  each 
side-of  their  rescuer,  who,  walking  with  much  difficulty,  leaned  lightly 
on  their  arms. 

Although  he  was  fully  twenty-five  years  of  age,  the  youthful 
countenance  of  this  man  did  not  seem  so  old.  His  long  light-brown 
hair,  parted  down  his  forehead,  fell  wet  and  soft  on  the  collar  of  a 
large  brown  cloak,  with  which  he  had  been  covered.  It  would  be  a 
difficult  task  to  describe  the  heavenly  goodness  which  beamed  in  his 
pale  and  gentle  face,  as  pure  as  any  countenance  which  the  magic 
pencil  of  Rafael  ever  produced ;  for  this  divine  artist  alone  could 
portray  the  saddened  expression  of  those  sublime  features,  the  calm- 
ness of  his  heavenward  look,  and  his  eye  as  clear  and  blue  as  an 
archangel's,  or  a  martyr  ascended  to  the  skies. 

Yes,  of  a  martyr  I  for  a  blood-red  circle  already  encompassed  this 
beautiful  head. 

It  was  a  painful  sight  to  see  above  his  light-brown  eyebrows,  and 
made  still  more  bright  in  its  ruddy  colour  by  a  strait  cicatrix,  which 
had  been  made  some  months  before,  and  seemed  to  encircle  his 
splendid  brow  with  a  cord  of  purple.  It  was  still  more  sad  to  behold 
his  hands  cruelly  pierced  as  by  crucifixion,  and  his  feet,  which  had  been 
subjected  to  the  same  infliction ;  so  that  he  walked  with  extreme 
agony,  as  his  wounds  had  opened  afresh  as  he  crawled  over  the  sharp- 
pointed  rocks  whilst  he  was  struggling  for  his  life. 

This  young  man  was  Gabriel,  the  priest  attached  to  the  foreign 
missions,  and  the  adopted  child  of  Dagobert's  wife. 

Gabriel  was  a  priest  and  a  martyr  —  for  in  these  our  days  there 


174  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

are  also  martyrs,  as  in  the  time  when  the  Caesars  threw  the  early 
Christiana  to  the  lions  and  tigera  of  the  Circus. 

In  our  days  the  children  of  the  people  —  for  it  is  always  amongst 
them  that  are  found  the  heroic  and  disinterested  —  it  is  the  children  of 
the  people  who  display  courage  and  sincerity,  and  go  to  all  parts  of 
the  world  to  try  and  propagate  their  faith,  and  brave  death  with 
fearlessness  and  devotion. 

How  many  of  them,  victims  of  barbarism,  have  perished,  obscure 
and  unknown,  in  the  midst  of  the  solitudes  of  the  two  worlds  I  And 
these  simple  soldiers  of  the  cross,  who  have  nothing  but  their  faith 
and  their  courage,  never  have  any  return  (or  seldom)  —  never  any  of 
thosu  loaves  and  fishes  which  the  church  has  to  bestow!  The  purple 
or  the  mitre  never  conceals  their  scarred  brows,  their  mutilated  limbs ; 
but,  like  the  majority  of  the  soldiers  of  the  army,  they  die  forgotten  I* 
*  *  *  *  * 

In  their  ingenuous  gratitude  the  daughters  of  General  Simon, 
once  restored  to  their  senses  after  the  shipwreck,  and  sufficiently 
strong  to  climb  amongst  the  rocks,  would  not  allow  any  other  person 
to  have  the  care  of  supporting  the  faltering  steps  of  him  who  had 
snatched  them  from  certain  death. 

The  black  clothes  of  Hose  and  Blanche  were  streaming  with  water; 
their  faces,  which  were  excessively  pale,  expressed  deep  grief,  and 
tears  were  in  their  eyes,  which  were  sorrowful,  downcast,  and  qui- 
vering with  emotion  and  cold,  as  they  reflected  that  they  should  never 
again  see  Dagobert,  their  guide  and  friend ;  for  lie  it  was  whom 
Gabriel  had  in  vain  attempted  to  save  by  helping  him  to  ascend  the 
rocks.  Unfortunately,  strength  had  failed  them  both,  and  the  soldier 
was  swept  away  by  a  receding  wave. 

The  appearance  of  Gabriel  was  a  fresh  surprise  for  Rodin,  who 
had  retired  into  a  corner,  whence  he  might  observe  all ;  but  this 
surprise  was  so  fortunate,  and  he  was  so  delighted  to  see  the  mis- 
sionary saved  from  the  death  which  seemed  so  imminent,  that  the 
intense  feeling  which  he  had  experienced  at  the  sight  of  General 
Simon's  daughters  was  greatly  abated.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
M.  Rodin's  plans  required  the  presence  of  Gabriel  in  Paris  on  the  13th 
of  February. 

The  steward  and  his  wife,  who  were  greatly  affected  at  the  sight  of 
the  orphan  girls,  approached  them  with  eagerness. 

"  Sir !  sir !  good  news  I "  said  a  country  lad,  as  he  entered.  "  Two 
more  persons  saved  from  the  wreck  I " 

"  Heaven  be  praised  I  Heaven  be  blessed  ! "  said  the  missionary. 

"  Where  are  they?"  inquired  the  steward,  going  towards  the  door. 

••  There  is  one  who  can  walk,  and  is  following  on  with  Justin,  who 
is  leading  him :  the  other  was  wounded  against  the  rocks,  and  they  arc 
carrying  him  hither  on  a  litter  made  of  the  branches  of  trees." 

*  We  remember  with  deep  interest  the  end  of  a  letter  written  two  or  three  years 
ago  by  a  missionary,  son  of  some  peasants  at  Beauce.  He  wrote  to  his  mother  from 
Japan,  and  ended  bis  letter  thus : — 

"  Good  bye,  my  dear  mother ;  they  tell  me  there  is  much  danger  where  I  am 
going  to.  Pray  tn  God  for  me,  and  tell  all  our  good  neighbours  that  I  love  them, 
and  often  think'of  them." 

This  simple  phrase,  addressed  from  the  centre  of  Asia  to  poor  peasants  in  a  hamlet 
of  1  taiice,  appear*  to  us  exquisitely  touching. 


THE  CHATEAU  DK  CARDOVILLE. —  THE  SHIPWRECKED.          175 

"  I  will  iun  and  have  him  placed  in  the  lower  room,"  said  the 
steward,  going  out.  "  You,  wife,  can  help  the  young  maidens." 

"  And  the  shipwrecked  man  who  is  able  to  walk,  where  is  he?" 
inquired  the  steward's  wife. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  the  peasant,  pointing  to  some  one  who  came 
along  the  gallery  with  a  quick  step.  "  When  he  learned  that  the  two 
young  ladies  were  saved,  and  here,  although  he  is  old,  and  was  bruised 
on  the  head,  he  made  such  quick  strides  that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could 
do  to  get  here  first." 

The  peasant  had  scarcely  pronounced  these  words  than  Rose  and 
Blanche,  rising  together  by  a  spontaneous  impulse,  hurried  towards  the 
door.  They  arrived  there  at  the  same  moment  as  Dagobert. 

The  soldier,  unable  to  articulate  a  word,  fell  on  his  knees  at  the 
threshold,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  to  the  daughters  of  General  Simon, 
whilst  Kill-joy,  running  to  them,  began  licking  their  hands. 

The  ('motion  was  too  strong  for  Dagobert,  and  when  he  had  clasped 
the  orphans  in  his  arms  his  head  fell  back,  and  he  would  have  dropped 
prostrate,  but  for  the  care  of  the  countryman  near  him.  In  spite  of 
the  observations  of  the  steward's  wife,  as  to  their  weakness  and  emo- 
tion, the  two  young  girls  would  accompany  the  fainting  Dagobert,  who 
was  carried  into  an  adjoining  apartment. 

At  the  appearance  of  the  soldier,  M.  Rodin's  face  was  contracted, 
as  though  by  a  spasm,  for  lie  had  till  that  moment  supposed  the  guide 
of  the  general's  daughters  was  dead. 

The  missionary,  overwhelmed  with  fatigue,  was  leaning  on  a  chair, 
not  having  yet  observed  M.  Rodin. 

Another  person,  a  man  with  a  yellow  and  sallow  complexion, 
entered  the  apartment,  and  coining  up  to  the  missionary,  said  to  him 
in  French,  but  with  a  foreign  accent, 

"  The  Prince  Djalma  will  be  brought  in  directly ;  his  first  word 
was  to  ask  for  you." 

"  What  does  that  man  say  ?  "  exclaimed  Rodin,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der ;  for  at  the  name  of  Djalma  he  had,  with  a  single  bound,  sprung 
to  Gabriel's  side. 

"  Monsieur  Rodin  ! "  exclaimed  the  missionary,  greatly  surprised. 

"  Monsieur  Rodin  !"  exclaimed  the  other  shipwrecked  man ;  and 
from  that  instant  his  eye  never  quitted  the  correspondent  of  Joshua 
Van  1  ),K  I. 

"  You  here,  sir !"  said  Gabriel,  approaching  Rodin  with  an  air  of 
deference  and  fear. 

"  What  did  that  man  say  to  you  ?"  repeated  Rodin,  with  a  faltering 
voice.  "  Did  he  not  utter  the  name  of  Prince  Djalma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  Prince  Djalma  M-as  one  of  the  passengers  on  board  the 
English  vessel  which  came  from  Alexandria,  and  which  has  now  been 
wrecked.  This  vessel  put  in  at  the  Azores,  where  I  was,  the  ship  that 
brought  me  from  Charlestown  having  been  obliged  to  remain  there  on 
account  of  severe  damage  she  suffered  in  a  heavy  gale.  I  embarked  on 
board  the  Black  Haglt,  where  I  met  Prince  Djalma.  We  were  bound 
to  Portsmouth,  and  thence  I  intended  to  make  my  way  to  France." 

Rodin  did  not  interrupt  Gabriel.  This  fresh  shock  completely 
paralysed  his  thoughts.  At  length,  like  a  man  who  tries  a  last  for- 


176  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

cible  effort,  although  he  knows  beforehand  that  it  is  vain,  he  said  to 
Gabriel, 

"  And  do  you  know  who  this  Prince  Djalma  is  ?  " 

'•  A  young  man  as  brave  as  good,  the  son  of  an  Indian  king,  dis- 
possessed of  his  territory  by  the  English." 

Then,  turning  towards  the  other  shipwrecked  man,  the  missionary 
said  to  him,  in  a  tone  of  deep  interest, 

"  How  is  the  prince  ?  are  his  wounds  dangerous  ?  " 

"  The  bruises  are  not  mortal,  but  they  are  very  serious,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  God  be  praised ! "  said  the  missionary ;  and,  turning  towards 
Rodin  —  "  Here,  you  sec,  there  is  another  saved." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  Rodin,  in  a  brief  and  imperious 
tone. 

"  I  will  go  to  him,"  said  Gabriel,  submissively,  "  unless  you  have 
any  orders  to  give  me." 

"  Shall  you  be  ready  to  set  out  hence  in  two  or  three  hours,  in 
spite  of  your  fatigues  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  it  be  peremptory." 

"  It  is.     You  will  go  with  me." 

Gabriel  bowed  to  Rodin,  who  fell  back  in  his  chair  like  one  bereft 
of  his  wits,  whilst  the  missionary  left  the  room  with  the  servant. 

The  man  with  the  sallow  complexion  remained,  unperceived  by 
Rodin. 

This  man  was  Faringhea  the  Mulatto,  one  of  the  three  Strangler 
chiefs,  who  had  evaded  the  pursuit  of  the  soldiers  in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi. 
After  having  murdered  Mahal  the  smuggler,  he  had  stripped  him  of 
the  despatches  written  by  M.  Joshua  Van  Dae'l  to  Rodin,  and  also  of 
the  letter  by  which  the  smuggler  was  to  have  been  received  as  a  pas- 
senger on  board  the  Ruyter.  Faringhea  having  escaped  from  the  hut 
in  the  ruins  of  Tchandi,  without  being  even  seen  by  Djalma,  the  latter, 
when  he  met  him  on  shipboard,  after  his  escape  (the  particulars  of 
which  will  be  hereafter  explained),  not  knowing  that-he  belonged  to 
the  Phansegars,  had  treated  him  during  the  voyage  as  a  fellow- 
countryman. 

Rodin,  with  his  eye  fixed,  his  countenance  livid  and  mute  with 
rage,  was  biting  his  nails  to  the  quick,  not  perceiving  the  Mulatto, 
who,  after  having  silently  approached  him,  placed  his  hand  familiarly 
on  his  shoulder  and  said  to  him, 

"  Your  name  is  Rodin  ?" 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Rodin,  starting,  and  lifting  up  his  head 
quickly. 

"  Your  name  is  Rodin,  isn't  it?" 

"  It  is.    What  then  ?  " 

"  You  live  in  the  Rue  Milieu-des-Ursins,  at  Paris,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes.     But  I  again  ask,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  now,  my  brother;  but  hereafter,  much." 

And  Faringhea  went  away  slowly,  leaving  Rodin  much  alarmed ; 
for  this  man,  who  quailed  at  nothing,  had  been  struck  by  the  sinister 
looks  and  repulsive  physiognomy  of  the  Strangler. 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS.  177 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

DEPARTURE  FOR  FARIS. 

PROFOUND  silence  reigned  throughout  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville. 
The  tempest  had  considerably  abated,  and  the  hoarse  sound  of  the 
waves,  dashing  sullenly  and  heavily  upon  the  shore,  was  now  only 
heard. 

Dagobert  and  the  orphans  were  established  in  warm  and  comfort- 
able chambers  on  the  first-floor  of  the  chateau. 

Djalma,  too  severely  hurt  to  be  carried  to  the  upper  rooms,  had 
remained  in  a  lower  apartment.  At  the  moment  when  the  ships 
struck,  a  despairing  mother  had  placed  her  infant  in  his  arms.  In  vain 
did  he  attempt  to  snatch  the  unhappy  babe  from  a  certain  death,  the 
effort  only  impeded  his  own  struggle  for  his  life,  and  he  was  eventually 
nearly  dashed  to  pieces  when  driven  on  the  rocks. 

Faringhea,  who  had  contrived  to  induce  a  belief  in  his  affection  for 
him,  remained  to  watch  over  him. 

Gabriel,  after  having  offered  all  the  consolation  in  his  power  to 
Djalma,  returned  to  the  chamber  allotted  to  him ;  and  faithful  to  his 
promise  to  Rodin,  to  be  ready  to  set  out  at  the  end  of  two  hours, 
would  not  lie  down  in  bed,  but,  having  dried  his  garments,  went  to 
sleep  in  a  large  high -backed  chair  before  a  sparkling  fire. 

This  apartment  was  situated  near  those  occupied  by  Dagobert  and 
the  two  sisters. 

Kill-joy,  who  seemed  to  have  very  great  confidence  in  the  honesty 
of  the  chateau,  had  left  the  door  of  Rose  and  Blanche's  chamber,  and 
had  laid  himself  down  before  the  fire,  at  the  corner  of  which  the  mis- 
sionary was  sleeping. 

Kill-joy,  with  his  muzzle  stretched  forth  on  his  extended  paws, 
enjoyed  all  the  delight  of  repose  after  so  many  perils  by  flood 
and  field.  We  will  not  take  upon  us  to  affirm  that  he  thought  con- 
stantly of  poor  old  Jovial,  unless,  as  a  mark  of  his  remembrance,  it 
might  be  observed  that  he  had  an  irresistible  impulse  to  bite  all  the 
grey  horses  he  met  since  the  death  of  his  venerable  companion, 
although  up  to  that  time  he  had  always  been  the  most  inoffensive  dog 
that  ever  breathed  to  horses  of  every  colour. 

After  a  few  moments  one  of  the  doors  of  the  chamber  opened,  and 
the  two  sisters  entered  with  a  timid  air.  Having  reposed  themselves, 
awakened,  and  dressed,  they  began  to  be  uneasy  concerning  Dagobert, 
although  the  steward's  wife,  after  having  shewn  them  his  apartment, 
and  came  again  to  tell  them  that  the  village  doctor  did  not  find  any 
cause  for  apprehension  in  the  old  soldier's  contusions,  still  they  quitted 
their  room,  hoping  to  meet  with  some  one  who  could  inform  them 
more  precisely  on  the  subject  of  their  anxiety. 

The  high  back  of  the  old-fashioned  arm-chair  in  which  Gabriel 
was  sleeping  completely  concealed  him,  but  the  orphans,  seeing  Kill- 
joy quietly  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  chair,  thought  it  was  Dagobert  who 
was  reposing  there,  and  they  approached  the  seat  on  tiptoe. 
12  N 


178  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

To  their  great  astonishment  they  saw  Gabriel  sleeping  there. 
Quite  surprised,  they  stood  motionless,  neither  daring  to  advance  nor 
recede  for  fear  of  waking  him. 

The  long,  light  chestnut  locks  of  the  missionary  were  no  longer  wet, 
and  now  curled  round  his  neck  and  shoulders,  whilst  the  paleness  of  his 
complexion  was  the  more  striking  from  the  deep  purple  hue  of  the 
damask  cover  of  the  chair.  Gabriel's  beautiful  countenance  expressed 
a  painful  melancholy,  either  arising  from  the  operation  of  an  oppressive 
dream,  or  else  that  he  always  repressed  strong  emotions  which  betrayed 
themselves  when  he  was  sleeping.  In  spite,  however,  of  the  sadness 
and  grief  of  his  appearance,  his  features  preserved  their  character  of 
heavenly  sweetness  and  attraction,  for  nothing  is  more  touching  than 
suffering  goodness.  The  two  young  girls  cast  down  their  eyes  and 
blushed  as  they  perceived  the  sleeping  missionary. 

"  He  sleeps,  my  sister,"  said  Rose,  in  a  gentle  whisper. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  answered  Blanche,  in  a  low  tone,  and  making 
a  signal  with  her  uplifted  finger,  not  to  disturb  his  repose ;  "  we  shall 
be  able  to  observe  him  more  at  our  ease.  For,  all  through  the  time  we 
were  on  board  the  same  vessel  with  him,  we  never  could  take  courage 
to  examine  his  features." 

"  How  sweet  and  heavenly  is  the  expression  of  his  countenance !  It 
must  be  he  we  have  seen  in  our  dreams." 

**  Assuring  us  he  would  watch  over  and  protect  us." 

"  And  well  has  he  kept  his  word." 

"  But  this  time  he  does  not  deny  us  the  happiness  of  beholding  our 
deliverer." 

"  Not  as  it  was  in  that  dark  night  when  we  were  freed  from  our 
imprisonment  at  Leipsic." 

"  Yes,  then  it  was  he  who  rescued  us — who  restored  us  to  liberty." 

"  And  this  morning  we  should  have  perished  but  for  his  pow- 
erful aid." 

"  But  yet,  dear  sister,  it  seems  to  me,  that  when  he  visited  us  in 
our  dreams,  his  whole  countenance  seemed  as  though  shining  with  a 
radiant  brightness." 

"  Yes,  you  know  it  almost  dazzled  us  to  behold  him.  And  then 
he  did  not  appear  so  sad  and  dejected  as  he  now  does." 

"  That  was  because,  you  see,  he  came  to  us  from  heaven  ;  but  now 
he  is  on  earth  !" 

"  And,  sister,  had  he  then  these  deep  red  scars  all  round  his  fore- 
head ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  or  we  should  have  observed  them." 

"  And  look  at  his  hands  !  they  have  the  same  marks  of  wounds." 

"  But  angels  cannot  be  wounded ;  therefore,  dear  sister,  he  is  not 
an  archangel,  as  we  thought." 

"  Nay,  but  suppose  he  received  these  injuries  while  seeking  to  pre- 
vent some  unhappy  creatures  from  committing  sin,  or  in  preserving 
unfortunate  beings,  like  ourselves,  from  certain  death ! " 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  !  you  are  quite  right,  dear  sister.  Doubtless,  he 
has  incurred  much  harm  and  risk  in  defence  of  those  he  protects,  as 
he  does  us ;  and  oh  !  how  noble  and  excellent  do  these  scars  make  him 
seem ! " 

"  What  a  pity  lie  has  not  opened  his  eyes  ! " 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS.  179 

"  They  look  so  kindly  and  gently  at  us." 

"  I  wonder  he  never  spoke  to  us  of  our  mother  during  the  voyage." 

"You  know  we  were  never  alone  with  him;  he  did  not  like  to 
mention  her  before  others." 

"  But  we  are  alone  now" 

"  Shall  we  pray  to  him  to  tell  us  more  about  our  beloved  parent?" 

At  these  words  the  orphans  exchanged  a  look  of  innocent  confi- 
dence, while  a  bright  glow  tinged  their  cheeks,  and  an  indescribable 
feeling  made  their  young  hearts  beat  with  increased  quickness  beneath 
the  black  robe  which  covered  them. 

"  Yes,  yes,  sister,  dear ;  let  us  kneel,  and  beseech  him  to  speak 
to  us." 

"  Oh,  how  our  hearts  beat ! "  said  Blanche,  feeling  perfectly  sure 
that  her  every  feeling  was  reciprocated  by  her  sister ;  *'  and  yet  it  is  a 
happy  sensation — is  it  not,  dear  Uose  ? — as  though  we  were  expecting 
some  great  blessing." 

The  two  sisters  approached  the  arm-chair  on  which  the  young 
priest  was  sleeping,  stepping  cautiously  on  tiptoe,  and  then  kneeling 
down,  one  on  each  side  of  him,  held  up  their  clasped  hands,  as  in  fer- 
vent supplication,  forming  a  picture  an  artist  would  have  delighted  to 
copy. 

Then  elevating  their  lovely  faces  towards  Gabriel,  whispering  in 
the  tender  voice  which  well  assorted  with  the  youthful  sweetness  of 
their  looks,  they  meekly  uttered, — 

"  Gabriel !  tell  us  of  our  mother," 

At  the  sound  of  his  name  the  missionary  gave  a  slight  start,  half- 
opened  his  eyes,  and,  under  the  influence  of  a  half-awakened  conscious- 
ness of  what  was  passing  around  him,  a  sudden  feeling  of  delight  pos- 
sessed him  at  the  sight  of  the  two  fair  creatures  kneeling  at  his  feet,  and 
invoking  his  name  in  such  gentle  yet  sweet  voices. 

"Who  calls?"  said  he,  at  length,  awakening  thoroughly,  and 
raising  his  head. 

"  'Tis  we  —  Rose  and  Blanche."  • 

It  was  now  Gabriel's  turn  to  blush,  as  he  recognised  the  two  inter- 
esting objects  his  hand  had  snatched  from  a  watery  grave. 

"  Rise,  ray  sisters  !"  said  he,  at  length  ;  "  you  should  kneel  only  to 
your  God ! " 

The  orphans,  in  prompt  obedience  to  his  words,  instantly  rose  from 
their  supplicating  position,  and  placed  themselves  by  his  side,  each 
holding  the  other  by  the  hand. 

"  It  seems  you  know  my  name,"  said  the  young  missionary,  smiling 
kindly  at  them. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  we  could  not  forget  it." 

"  But  from  whom  did  you  learn  it?" 

"  From  yourself  I" 

"  From  me  ?" 

"  You  told  us  you  were  called  Gabriel,  when  you  brought  us  the 
message  from  our  mother ;  when  you  informed  us  she  had  sent  you 
to  protect  us,  and  that  you  would  ever  watch  over  us." 

"  I,  my  sisters  I "  cried  the  astonished  missionary,  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  comprehend  a  word  of  this  discourse.  "  You  are  under  some  great 
mistake.  I  see  you  to-day  for  the  first  time  in  my  life." 


180  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  And  in  our  dreams  you  have  visited  us." 

"  Yes !     Now  do  you  not  recollect  visiting  us  in  our  dreams  ?  " 

"  The  first  time  you  came  was  in  Germany,  about  three  months 
ago.  Pray  look  at  us  well,  and  then,  I  am  sure,  you  will  recol- 
lect us." 

Gabriel,  spite  of  his  surprise,  could  not  restrain  a  smile  at  the  sim- 
plicity with  which  these  children  of  nature  besought  him  to  recollect 
the  dreams  which  had  flitted  over  their  innocent  slumbers  ;  then,  still 
more  and  more  perplexed,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  I  visited  you  in  your  dreams  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  you  gave  us  all  those  excellent  counsels  ! " 

"  And  even  when  we  suffered  so  much  sorrow,  in  our  prison  even, 
we  thought  of  all  the  good  advice  we  had  received  from  you,  and  were 
comforted  and  filled  with  fresh  courage." 

"  Was  it  not  you  who  freed  us  from  our  dungeon  at  Leipsic,  that 
dark  night,  that  we  could  not  even  discern  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Who  but  you  could  thus  have  come  to  our  help,  and  that  of  our 
old  and  dear  friend  ?  " 

"  We  told  him  truly,  that  we  were  sure  you  would  love  him,  be- 
cause he  so  tenderly  loved  us,  although  he  cared  so  little  about 
angels  !" 

"  And  all  this  morning,  during  the  raging  of  the  storm,  we  were 
scarcely  at  all  afraid." 

"  We  were  certain  you  would  come  to  save  us  ! " 

"  Yes,  my  sisters,  the  Almighty  did,  this  day,  most  graciously  send 
me  to  your  assistance.  I  was  returning  from  America,  but  I  have 
never  been  at  Leipsic  in  my  life ;  it  could  not,  therefore,  have  been  me 
who  liberated  you  from  prison.  Tell  me,  my  sisters,"  continued  he, 
smiling  with  tender  kindness  on  the  two  orphans,  "  for  whom  do  you 
take  me?" 

"  For  a  good  angel,  whom  we  have  already  seen  in  our  dreams,  and 
whom  our  dear  mother'has  sent  from  heaven  to  protect  us." 

"  My  dear  sisters,  I  am  only  a  poor  priest,  who,  by  some  chance, 
doubtless,  resembles  an  angel  you  have  seen  in  your  dreams,  where 
alone  you  can  see  him  —  for  mortals,  such  as  we  are,  are  not  permitted 
to  behold  the  dwellers  of  heaven  I " 

"  Then,  we  cannot  see  our  mother's  angel,  except  in  a  dream!" 
said  the  sisters,  looking  sorrowfully  at  each  other. 

"  Heed  not  that,  my  dear  sisters,"  said  Gabriel,  affectionately, 
taking  the  hands  of  the  young  girls  within  his  own :  "  dreams,  like 
every  thing  else,  proceed  from  God ;  and  since  the  remembrance  of 
your  mother  was  mingled  with  yours,  bless  Him  doubly  for  sending  it." 

At  this  instant  a  door  opened,  and  Dagobert  appeared. 

Up  to  the  present  moment,  the  innocent  pride  the  orphans  felt  in 
the  idea  of  being  protected  by  an  archangel  had  made  them  entirely 
overlook  the  circumstance  they  had  heard,  through  Dagobert,  of  his 
wife  having  adopted  and  brought  up  a  deserted  child,  named  Gabriel, 
who  was  now  a  priest  and  a  missionary. 

The  soldier,  although  he  obstinately  persisted  in  declaring  his  hurt 
was  nothing  but  a  white  wound  (to  use  a  favourite  term  of  General 
Simon),  had  been  most  carefully  attended  to  by  the  surgeon  of  the 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS.  181 

village,  and  then  wore  a  black  bandeau  round  his  forehead,  which 
increased  the  natural  repulsiveness  of  his  features. 

Great  was  his  surprise  upon  entering  the  apartment,  to  behold 
a  stranger  familiarly  clasping  the  hands  of  Blanche  and  Rose  within 
his  own ;  and  this  astonishment  may  be  conceived,  when  it  is  known 
that  Dagobert  was  perfectly  ignorant  of  Gabriel's  having  saved  the 
lives  of  the  orphans,  as  well  as  of  his  having  attempted  to  save  his  own, 
during  the  horrors  of  the  wreck.  While  tossing  among  the  waves,  and 
vainly  striving  to  cling  to  the  rocks  against  which  he  was  flung,  the 
soldier  had  only  very  indistinctly  perceived  Gabriel,  when,  after  having 
snatched  the  sisters  from  a  certain  death,  he  had  struggled  hard  and 
fruitlessly  to  come  to  his  succour.  And  when,  after  being  conveyed 
to  the  chateau,  Dagobert  had  found  the  sisters  in  safety,  fatigue, 
emotion,  and  the  pain  of  his  wound,  so  entirely  overpowered  him,  as  to 
throw  him  into  a  state  of  utter  unconsciousness,  so  that  he  had  not 
observed  the  presence  of  Gabriel. 

Spite  of  the  bandage,  which  nearly  covered  his  forehead,  the  thick, 
grey,  shaggy  brows  of  the  veteran  expressed,  by  their  deep  furrows,  his 
surprise  and  displeasure  at  beholding  a  stranger  so  familiarly  holding 
the  hands  of  Rose  and  Blanche ;  but  directly  the  sisters  perceived  him, 
they  rushed  towards  him,  threw  themselves  into  his  arms,  and  caressed 
him  with  the  loving  fondness  of  children  welcoming  a  beloved  parent. 
His  anger  was  quickly  dissipated  by  these  tender  marks  of  affection, 
although  he  continually  kept  glancing  in  a  suspicious  manner  towards 
the  young  missionary,  who  had  now  risen  from  his  seat,  and  was  so 
placed  that  his  countenance  could  not  be  perfectly  distinguished. 

"  And  how  is  your  wound?"  inquired  Rose,  anxiously;  "we  learnt 
that,  happily,  it  was  not  dangerous." 

"  Does  it  still  give  you  pain?"  asked  Blanche,  tenderly. 

"  No,  my  children ;  but  the  commanding-officer  of  the  village 
would  insist  upon  wrapping  me  up  in  this  manner.  Why,  if  I  had  hud 
my  head  sliced  all  over  with  sabre-cuts,  I  would  not  have  made  all  this 
fuss  about  it.  I  look  like  an  affected  old  milksop,  with  all  this  ban- 
daging. It  is  nothing  but  a  white  wound,  and  I  don't  want  this  thing  in 

my  eyes.     I  wish  particularly  to  see  who "     Saying  these  words, 

the  soldier  seized  his  bandage,  as  though  about  to  remove  it. 

Rose  eagerly  caught  his  arm — "  Will  you  leave  that  alone  ?  "  cried 
she.  "  At  your  age  to  be  so  foolish  and  unreasonable  !  Oh,  fie !" 

"  Well,  don't  scold  I  and  I  will  do  as  you I  will  not  take 

this  thing  off  my  head,  if  you  say  I  must  not  I"  Then  drawing  the 
sisters  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  he  said  to  them,  looking  towards  the 
young  priest  from  the  corner  of  his  eye, 

"  Who  was  that  gentleman  who  was  holding  you  by  the  hands 
when  I  came  in  ? — he  looks  like  a  clergyman.  But  you  see,  my  chil- 
dren, you  must  be  careful  how  you  make  acquaintances  with  people, 
because " 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  ? "  exclaimed  the  sisters,  both  at  once. 
"  Why,  without  him  we  should  never  have  had  the  happiness  of  em- 
bracing you  again." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  the  soldier,  suddenly  drawing  up  his 
tall  figure,  and  eagerly  observing  the  missionary, 


182  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  It  is  our  guardian  angel ! "  added  Blanche.     "  But  for  his  timely 
aid  we  should  have  perished  in  this  morning's  wreck." 
"  Can  it  be  possible  —  can  it  indeed  be  he  ?  " 
Dagobert  could  say  no  more ;  his  heart  seemed  to  swell  almost  to 
bursting ;  tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  rushing,  with  extended  hands,  to 
the  missionary,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion  and  gratitude 
impossible  to  describe, 

"  Sir,  I  owe  you  the  lives  of  these  dear  children  !  I  know  the 
heavy  debt  of  everlasting  gratitude  it  lays  me  under.  I  will  not  attempt  to 
say  more,  because  these  words  comprise  every  expression  I  could  use."  4 
But,  as  though  suddenly  struck  with  a  recollection  of  the  past,  he 
cried,  "  But,  tell  me,  was  it  not  you  who,  when  I  was  trying  to  cling 
to  a  rock,  to  prevent  myself  from  being  carried  away  by  the  waves  — 
was  it  not  you  who  held  out  your  hand?  Yes!  certainly!  I  am 
quite  sure,  now  I  see  your  light  hair,  your  youthful  countenance — yes, 
yes  !  you  it  was,  indeed !  Now  I  perfectly  recognise  you  I" 

"  Unhappily,  sir,  my  strength  wholly  failed  me,  and  I  had  the  grief 
to  see  you  fall  back  again  into  the  sea." 

"  I  can  offer  you  no  further  thanks  than  I  have  already  done," 
said  Dagobert,  with  touching  simplicity ;  "  in  preserving  these  dear 
children  for  me,  you  have  done  a  hundred  times  more  to  claim  my 
gratitude  than  had  you  saved  my  life  over  and  over  again  !  But  what 
courage  I  what  a  noble  spirit ! "  cried  the  soldier,  with  admiration ; 
"  and  so  young,  and  with  a  look  gentle  and  modest  as  a  young 
maiden ! " 

"  What  1 "  inquired  Blanche,  joyfully  ;  "  did  our  Gabriel  come  to 
your  assistance  also  ?  " 

"  Gabriel ! "  said  Dagobert,  interrupting  Blanche,  and  addressing 
himself  to  the  priest,  "  Is  your  name  Gabriel  ?  " 
"  It  is,  sir  ! " 

"  Gabriel  I"  repeated  the  soldier,  becoming  each  instant  more  and 
more  surprised.  "  And  a  priest  ?"  added  he  ;  "a  foreign  missionary  ? 
And  who  brought  you  up  ?  " 

"  An  excellent  and  generous  woman,  whom  I  venerate  as  the  best 
of  mothers ;  for  such  she  has  ever  been  to  me,  since,  a  poor  deserted 
babe,  she  first  took  pity  on  my  helpless  state,  and  reared  and  treated 
me  as  her  own  son." 

"  You  mean-  Francoise  Baudoin,  do  you  not  ? "  said  the  veteran, 
deeply  moved. 

"  I  do,"  replied  Gabriel,  in  his  turn  greatly  astonished.  "  But  how 
do  you  know  this  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  wife  of  a  soldier,  is  she  not  ?  "  pursued  Dagobert. 
"  She  is,  indeed,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  bravest  of  men,  who,  from 
a  spirit  of  noble  devotion,  is  passing  his  life  in  exile  far  from  his  wife 
and  son,  my  dear  and  excellent  brother — for  proud,  indeed,  I  am  to  call 
him  by  that  name." 

"  When  !  oh,  when  did  you  quit  my  Agricola  —  my  wife?" 
"  Can  it  be  possible?  can  you  be,  indeed,  the  father  of  Agricola? 
Oh,  I  knew  not,  until  now,  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owed  to  God ! " 
cried  Gabriel,  joining  his  hands  with  an  expression  of  deep  thank- 
fulness. 


DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS.  188 

* 

"  And  my  wife  I  my  child ! "  resumed  Dagobert,  in  a  tremulous 
voice ;  "  oh,  tell  me  they  are  well !  Is  it  long  since  you  heard  from 
them?" 

"  The  last  accounts  I  received,  now  about  three  months  ago,  wer 
as  good  as  you  could  wish." 

"  This  is  too  much,  almost,"  sobbed  the  old  soldier,  —  "  this  joy  is 
more  than  I  can  bear." 

And,  unable  to  bear  the  sudden  rush  of  happiness  in  his  present 
weakened  state,  the  veteran  sunk  back  in  his  chair. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  sisters  called  to  mind  the  letter  of  their 
father  relative  to  the  wife  of  Dagobert  having  adopted  a  deserted  child, 
and  bestowed  upon  it  the  name  of  Gabriel ;  at  this  recollection,  and 
happy  conviction,  that  the  very  Gabriel  of  her  fostering  stood  before 
them,  their  delight  knew  no  bounds. 

"  Then  our  Gabriel  and  yours  is  the  same !  "  cried  Rose,  throwing 
her  arm  around  the  old  man's  neck.  "  Oh,  what  joy  !  what  happiness  !" 

"  Yes,  my  darlings  !  he  belongs  to  us  all  equally."  Then  addressing 
Gabriel  the  soldier  said,  with  passionate  emotion,  "  My  child  !  my 
noble,  intrepid  child !  give  me  your  hand !  My  own  boy — for  are  you 
not  my  Agricola's  brother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  what  goodness  is  this  ! " 

"  Come,  come !  no  thanks,  if  you  please,  after  all  you  have  done 
for  me — after  the  heavy  debt  I  owe  you." 

"  And  is  my  adopted  mother  aware  of  your  return  to  France?" 
inquired  Gabriel,  to  escape  from  the  praises  of  the  soldier. 

"  I  wrote  to  her  about  five  months  since  to  apprise  her  of  it,  but 
said  I  should  return  alone.  I  will  tell  you  hereafter  my  reasons  for  so 
doing.  Does  she  still  reside  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  ?  It  was  there 
my  Agricola  was  bora." 

"  She  does." 

"  In  that  case  she  must  have  received  my  letter.  I  would  have 
written  to  her  from  my  prison  at  Leipsic,  but  I  found  it  utterly  im- 
possible." 

"  In  prison  !     Can  you  have  been  suffering  from  imprisonment  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  came  from  Germany  by  the  Elbe  and  Hamburg,  and  I 
should  be  at  Leipsic  now,  but  for  an  event  which  would  make  one  be- 
lieve in  the  devil — only  a  devil  of  a  good  sort." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Pray  explain  this  event  to  me." 

"  That  would  be  difficult,  for  I  cannot  even  explain  it  to  myself;  but 
these  two  young  ladies,"  added  he,  pointing  smilingly  to  Rose  and 
Blanche,  "  pretend  to  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,  and  are  continu- 
ally saying  to  me,  'It  was  the  good  archangel  that  came  to  our  relief; 
Dagobert,  it  was  our  guardian  angel,  we  tell  you.  Now  will  you 
persist  in  declaring  that  Kill-joy  is  the  best  defender  we  can  possibly 
have?'" 

"  Gabriel,  I  await  you ! "  suddenly  uttered  a  stern,  harsh  voice, 
which  made  the  missionary  start. 

The  whole  party  quickly  turned  to  where  the  voice  proceeded 
from,  while  Kill-joy  growled  his  usual  deep  note  of  approaching  danger. 

The  words  had  been  spoken  by  M.  Rodin,  who  was  standing  at  an 
open  door  which  communicated  with  the  corridor :  his  features  were 


184  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

cold,  calui,  and  impassive,  as  usual ;  while  his  piercing  glance  rapidly 
surveyed  the  soldier  and  the  two  sisters. 

"  Who  is  this  man  ?  "  inquired  Dagobert,  from  the  first  glimpse  of 
M.  Rodin's  countenance  disliking  the  singularly  unprepossessing  and 
sinister  expression  it  wore.  "  What  does  he  want  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  must  depart  with  him,"  answered  Gabriel,  in  a  constrained  and 
mournful  tone.  Then  addressing  Rodin,  he  said,  "  A  thousand  pardons, 
sir  !  I  will  attend  you  instantly." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  stupefied  with  astonishment ;  "  de- 
part the  very  instant  we  meet,  after  so  long  an  absence !  No,  no  !  I 
swear  you  shall  never  go  !  I  have  too  much  to  inquire  of  you,  and 
to  tell  you.  Come,  come,  my  boy,  let  us  bear  each  other  company, 
and  enjoy  each  other's  society  through  the  journey  to  Paris." 

"  Alas,  it  is  impossible  !  he  (pointing  to  Rodin)  is  my  superior, 
and  I  must  perforce  obey." 

"  Your  superior  !  why,  he  is  dressed  in  plain  clothes  ! " 

"  He  is  not  obliged  to  wear  an  ecclesiastical  dress." 
.     "  Oh,  nonsense  !     Since  he  is  not  in  uniform,  and  you  have  no 
police  officer  in  your  service,  send  him  to  the  right-about — blow  him  to 
the " 

"  Believe  me,  resistance  is  useless ;  and  be  assured,  that  were  it 
left  to  my  own  choice,  whether  to  go  or  remain,  I  would  not  hesitate 
one  instant." 

"  I  was  not  mistaken,  then,"  muttered  Dagobert,  between  his 
teeth,  "  in  feeling  sure  that  man's  ill-looking  visage  boded  no  good  to 
any  one:"  then  added,  with  a  vexed  and  impatient  manner,  "  Shall  I 
speak  to  him  ?  I  tell  you  what,"  whispered  he  to  Gabriel,  "  if  you  will 
give  me  leave,  I  will  just  politely  ask  him  to  take  himself  off  as  quickly 
as  he  can,  and  that  the  faster  he  flies  out  of  the  way  the  better  we  shall 
like  it." 

"  I  entreat  of  you,"  said  Gabriel,  "  not  to  interfere  ;  it  would  be  of 
no  avail.  I  know  my  duty,  and  that  I  have  no  will  but  that  of  my 
superior.  Upon  my  arrival  at  Paris  I  will  hasten  to  see  yourself,  my 
adopted  mother,  and  dear  brother  Agricola." 

"  Well,  if  it  must  be  so,  it  must  be !  I  have  been  a  soldier  too  many 
years  not  to  understand  what  subordination  means,"  said  Dagobert, 
whose  irritated  manner  strongly  belied  the  submission  he  professed. 
"  We  must  bear  these  contrarieties  with  courage, — take  the  fortune  of 
war  as  we  find  it.  So  farewell,  my  brave  boy,  till  the  day  after  to- 
morrow !  —  then  don't  forget  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  for  I  shall  assuredly 
be  in  Paris  to-morrow  evening — at  least,  so  they  tell  me  here,  and  we 
start  directly.  I  say,  though,  you  seem  to  keep  up  a  strict  discipline 
in  your  corps  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Gabriel,  with  an  involuntary  shudder ;  "  the  disci- 
pline is  most  excessively  rigid  and  severe."  A  half-stifled  sigh  accom- 
panied these  words. 

"  Well,  then,  let 's  say  Good  by,  at  once.  Parting  is  a  thing  I 
don't  like,  because  I  can't  see  the  necessity  of  it :  however,  never 
mind,  we  shall  soon  meet  again  ;  for,  after  all,  it  is  not  worth  while 
fretting  about  a  paltry  twenty-four  hours,  which  will  soon  pass  away — 
won't  they,  my  children  ?  " 


DAGOBERT'S  WIFE,  185 

"Adieu!  adieu!"  replied  the  missionary,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  emotion,  and  affectionately  returning  the  vehement  grasp  of  the 
old  soldier's  hand. 

"  Farewell,  Gabriel,"  murmured  the  orphans,  deeply  sighing,  and 
gazing  on  the  features  of  the  young  priest  with  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

"Adieu,  my  sisters! — my  ever  dear  sisters!"  responded  Gabriel, 
quitting  the  room  with  Rodin,  who  had  not  lost  one  word  or  incident 
of  this  scene. 

Two  hours  afterwards,  Dagobert  and  the  orphans  quitted  the  castle 
to  proceed  to  Paris,  ignorant  that  Djalma  still  remained  at  Cardoville, 
being  prevented  by  the  severe  injuries  he  had  received  from  continuing 
his  journey. 

The  Mulatto,  Faringhea,  unwilling,  as  he  said,  to  abandon  a  fellow- 
countryman,  remained  to  watch  over  the  young  prince. 

***** 

We  shall  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  residence  of  Dagobert's 
wife,  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LA  RUE  BRISE-MICHE. DAGOBERT'S  WIFE. 

THE  day  following  the  fearful  storm  which  had  thrown  the  poor 
shipwrecked  travellers  on  the  benevolence  and  hospitality  of  the  inha- 
bitants of  Cardoville  castle,  the  following  transactions  occurred  in 
Paris. 

Nothing  could  be  more  gloomy  or  suspicious-looking  than  the 
aspect  of  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  one  end  of  which  led  into  the  Rue 
Saint  Merry,  and  the  other  into  the  small  square  of  the  cloisters  ad- 
joining the  church. 

At  this  end  the  street  or  lane,  which  was  scarcely  eight  feet 
wide,  was  shut  in  by  immense  black,  slimy,  dilapidated  walls,  whose 
excessive  height  effectually  shut  out  both  light  and  air;  even  during 
the  longest  day  of  the  year  it  was  rare  for  a  straggling  sunbeam  to  find 
admittance  into  this  dismal  spot,  while,  during  the  damp,  cold  winter 
weather,  a  thick  chilling  fog,  which  seemed  to  penetrate  the  very 
bones,  pervaded  this  species  of  oblong  well,  the  pavement  of  which  was 
ever  covered  with  slippery  mud. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock,  and  the  faint,  lurid  light  of  the  lamp 
suspended  at  its  entrance  could  barely  serve  to  disperse  the  inurkiness 
of  the  night,  when  two  men,  half  hidden  in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  held 
the  following  discourse  with  each  other : — 

"  Now  then,"  observed  one,  "  you  understand,  don't  you  ?  You 
are  to  watch  in  the  street  till  you  see  them  enter  No.  5." 

"  I  know  I "  answered  the  other. 

"  And  when  you  have  seen  them  go  in,  in  order  to  be  doubly  sure, 
ascend  to  the  room  occupied  by  Francoise  Baudoin,  under  pretext 
of  asking  whether  the  little  humpbacked  sempstress  lives  there  ? — she 
that  is  sister  tQ  th,e  woman,  kpowp  ap  the  Queen  ofty 


186  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

«  All  right." 

"  Mind,  you  must  be  sure  to  find  out  where  this  Bacchanal  Queen 
lives — her  humpbacked  sister  will  tell  you  ;  and  such  persons  as  she 
is  change  their  nest  as  often  as  a  bird,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  find 
them  when  wanted." 

"  Make  yourself  easy  ;  I  will  try  it  on  with  Humpy,  to  get  out  of 
her  where  her  sister  is  to  be  heard  of." 

"  Well,  then,  by  way  of  inspiring  you  with  fresh  resolution,  I  will 
await  your  return  at  the  little  public-house  opposite  the  cloisters,  and 
you  shall  have  your  share  of  something  nice  and  hot  to  drink." 

"  That  is  too  good  an  offer  to  refuse,  for  it  is  very  cold  to- 
night." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  that !  Why,  this  morning  the  water  froze 
upon  my  sprinkling  brush,  and  I  was  almost  stiffened  like  a  mummy  in 
my  chair  at  the  church-door.  Ah,  my  boy,  it  is  no  sinecure  to  be  a 
distributor  of  holy  water ! " 

"  If  it  were  not  for  the  nice  little  pickings  belonging  to  the  office, 
I  suppose  you  would  resign." 

"  Now,  then,  good  luck  attend  you  !  Don't  forget  No.  5,  the 
little  alley,  beside  the  dyer's  shop." 

"  All  right !  all  right ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  as  the  pair  separated, 
the  one  to  proceed  towards  the  square  of  the  cloisters,  the  other  to 
take  the  opposite  end  of  the  lane,  where  it  led  into  the  Rue  Saint  Merry. 
It  was  no  difficult  matter  to  find  the  number  sought ;  a  high,  narrow 
building,  exhibiting  the  same  wretched  appearance  as  the  other  houses 
in  the  same  street.  Having  ascertained  the  precise  tenement  he  wished 
for,  the  man  commenced  walking  backwards  and  forwards  before  its 
door.  If  the  exterior  of  these  houses  appeared  dull  and  uninviting,  no 
words  can  adequately  describe  the  squalor,  the  gloom,  and  misery  of 
the  interior.  No.  5  even  exceeded  its  neighbours  in  dirt  and  dila- 
pidation. The  water,  which  oozed  from  the  walls,  trickled  down  the 
dark,  filthy  staircase.  On  the  second  floor,  a  few  bundles  of  straw  had 
been  thrown  on  the  narrow  landing-place,  for  the  purpose  of  wiping 
the  feet  of  those  compelled  to  ascend  the  muddy  stairs ;  but  this  straw, 
now  reduced  to  mere  dung  by  wet  and  long  lying  there,  augmented 
the  sickening  accumulation  of  foetid  odours  arising  from  want  of  air, 
damp,  and  foul  exhalations  ;  for,  spite  of  a  few  openings  made  in  the 
almost  ladder-like  staircase,  it  was  but  seldom  a  beneficent  breath  of 
air  could  find  its  way,  and,  at  the  best,  a  dim  glimmering  light  strove 
with  palpable  darkness  which  reigned  around. 

In  this  neighbourhood,  one  of  the  most  densely  populated  in 
Paris,  such  houses  as  this  are  occupied  by  the  working  classes,  who 
congregate  in  masses  in  these  wretched,  cheerless,  and  unwholesome 
dwellings. 

No.  5  was  a  building  of  this  description. 

A  dyer  occupied  the  ground-floor,  the  deleterious  vapours  from  his 
workshop  increasing  the  stench  of  the  whole  premises  :  various  artisans, 
with  their  families,  carried  on  their  different  trades  in  apartments  on  the 
upper  floors  ;  while  work-people,  of  either  sex,  dwelt  in  small  or  large 
rooms,  according  to  the  number  of  their  party,  and  employed  them- 
selves in  earning  a  scanty  living  as  they  best  could. 

A  chamber,  four  stories  high,  was  the  residence  of  Fran^oise  Bau- 


FRANCOI8E    BAUDO1N. 


DAGOBERT'S  WIFE.  187 

doin,  the  wife  of  Dagobert.  A  single  candle  flickered  in  this  humble 
abode,  consisting  of  a  room  and  small  closet  adjoining.  Agricola  oc- 
cupied a  small  garret  at  the  very  top  of  the  house. 

The  old  crazy  walls  of  the  chamber  were  covered  with  a  dingy 
faded  paper,  which  had  divided  into  cracks  as  the  plaster  gave  way ; 
in  one  corner  stood  the  bed,  while  scanty  curtains,  running  on  an  iron 
rod,  concealed  the  miserable  windows ;  the  floor,  from  being  washed 
instead  of  dry-rubbed,  had  assumed  the  appearance  of  being  bricked ; 
at  the  further  end  was  a  round  iron  stove,  on  which  was  placed  an 
earthen  pot,  forming  the  whole  of  the  culinary  apparatus  ;  while  oppo- 
site stood  a  wooden  table,  painted  yellow,  and  ornamented  with  brown 
stripes,  in  imitation  of  marble,  while  on  it  stood  a  master-piece  of 
patience,  skill,  and  ability,  in  the  shape  of  a  very  minute  house,  made 
of  iron,  every  component  part  of  which  had  been  fashioned  by  the 
hand  of  Agricola  Baudoin,  son  of  Dagobert. 

A  plaster  crucifix,  suspended  against  the  wall,  and  surrounded  by 
branches  of  the  blessed  box-tree,  various  images  of  saints,  clumsily 
designed,  and  coloured  in  the  most  absurd  manner,  further  adorned  the 
wretched  chamber,  and  evinced  the  devotional  bias  of  its  occupant. 

Between  the  windows  stood  an  old-fashioned  walnut-tree  press, 
black  with  age ;  an  old  arm-chair,  covered  with  faded  green  velvet 
(Agricola's  first  present  to  his  mother),  a  few  rush-bottomed  chairs, 
and  a  work-table,  on  which  lay  several  pieces  of  coarse  dyed  cloth, 
completed  the  furniture  of  this  poor  room,  badly  secured  by  an  old 
wormcaten  door ;  the  adjoining  closet  merely  contained  a  few  house- 
hold requisites.  Mean  and  slender  as  this  description  may  appear,  it 
yet  faithfully  paints  the  interior  of  a  dwelling  that  to  many  labouring 
persons  would  seem  rich  in  comforts.  In  the  first  place,  the  bed 
boasted  of  two  mattrasses,  good  clean  sheets,  warm  blankets,  and 
counterpane ;  the  old-fashioned  walnut-tree  press  contained  a  com- 
fortable supply  of  linen  for  every  purpose :  and,  secondly,  the  wife  of 
Dagobert  had,  for  her  own  exclusive  occupation,  a  room  as  large  as 
those  in  which  numerous  artisans,  with  large  families,  were  compelled 
all  to  huddle  together,  only  too  happy  if  their  sons  and  daughters 
could  be  accommodated  with  separate  sleeping  places,  and  if  their 
sheets  or  coverlets  were  under  their  own  care,  and  not,  by  dire  ne- 
cessity, committed  to  the  guardianship  of  the  pawnbroker. 

Fran9oise  Baudoin,  seated  beside  the  little  stove,  which,  in  so  cold 
and  damp  an  evening,  gave  out  but  little  wrarmth,  was  busy  in  prepar- 
ing the  evening  meal  for  her  son  Agricola. 

The  wife  of  Dagobert  was  about  fifty  years  of  age ;  she  wore  a 
short  jacket  of  blue  cotton,  with  small  white  flounces,  a  stuff  petticoat, 
a  white  handkerchief  tied  round  her  head  and  fastened  under  her  chin  : 
her  countenance  was  pale  and  thin,  her  features  regular,  and  expressive 
at  once  of  the  most  perfect  goodness  and  the  utmost  resignation.  A 
better  or  more  actively  good  and  industrious  mother  could  not  be 
found.  Unaided,  save  by  her  own  unwearied  energy,  she  had  con- 
trived, by  the  labour  of  her  own  hands,  not  only  to  educate  and  bring 
up  her  son  Agricola,  but  also  Gabriel,  who,  deserted  when  a  mere 
infant,  found  a  friend,  and  more  than  parent,  in  this  noble-minded  and 
courageous  woman. 

In  her  youth  she  had  in  a  manner  anticipated  the  strength  of  future 


183  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

days,  by  devoting  herself,  for  twelve  successive  years,  to  labour  which 
was  rendered  lucrative  by  incessant  toil  and  exertions,  so  great  as  to 
render  it  almost  a  species  of  self-destruction.  And,  with  every  self- 
denial  a  human  being  could  practise,  poor  Fran9oise  (and  be  it  re- 
membered that,  in  her  time,  poor  artisans  were  paid  splendidly  to  what 
they  are  nowadays)  actually  managed  to  earn  fifty  sous  (or  about  2*.) 
a-day  I  and  with  this  pittance  she  contrived  to  give  a  decent  education 
botli  to  her  son  and  her  adopted  son  also. 

At  the  end  of  twelve  years  her  health  was  ruined,  her  strength  all 
but  exhausted ;  but,  at  least  her  boys  had  wanted  for  nothing,  and  each 
had  received  an  education  suitable  to  their  station  in  life.  At  this  time, 
M.  Francoise  Hardy  took  Agricola  as  an  apprentice,  while  Gabriel 
prepared  to  enter  a  seminary  under  the  active  patronage  of  M.  Rodin, 
whose  constant  communications  with  the  confessor  of  Francoise  Bau- 
doin  had,  since  about  the  year  1820,  become  frequent  and  earnest. 

This  woman,  whose  piety  had  always,  however  unenlightened,  been 
the  prevailing  feature  in  her  character,  was  one  of  those  children  of 
simplicity  and  perfect  goodness  whose  ignorant,  yet  devoted  attach- 
ment to  her  faith,  would  have,  in  earlier  ages,  gained  for  her  the  wreath 
of  martyrdom  —  one  of  those  pure  and  heavenly  minds,  in  whose  un- 
taught breasts  instinct  almost  supplies  intelligence. 

The  only  evil  consequence  resulting  from  this  blind  bigotry  was 
the  most  perfect  determination,  amounting  to  obstinacy,  when  Fran- 
coise thought  herself  called  upon,  to  obey  the  spiritual  guide  to  whom 
for  so  many  years  she  had  yielded  implicit  submission ;  and  believing 
his  word,  his  command,  as  emanating  from  a  Being  her  very  soul 
adored,  no  power,  no  representation,  could  have  induced  her  to  dis- 
pute it :  had  even  any  discussion  arisen  on  the  subject,  no  earthly 
inducement  could  have  moved  her  from  her  fixed  resolve  to  follow 
unquestioningly  the  path  marked  out  by  her  confessor ;  her  resistance 
would  have  been,  like  herself,  calm,  still,  and  resolved  —  like  her  con- 
science, firm  and  uncompromising. 

In  a  word,  Francoise  Baudoin  was  one  of  those  pure-minded,  de- 
voted, but  ignorant  and  credulous  persons,  who  may  sometimes,  even 
unconsciously,  become,  in  wicked  hands,  the  unwitting  instruments  of 
fearful  actions. 

For  some  time  past,  the  ill  state  of  her  health,  and,  above  all,  the 
serious  injury  her  eye-sight  had  received  from  her  unceasing  toil,  had 
compelled  her,  against  her  will,  to  rest  from  her  labours ;  and,  now 
that  she  could  with  difficulty  work  above  two  or  three  hours  a-day, 
she  passed  all  the  rest  of  her  time  at  church. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  moments  Francoise  arose,  laid  all  the  frag- 
ments of  coarse  cloth,  at  which  she  had  been  working,  at  one  side  of 
the  table,  and  proceeded  to  lay  the  cloth  for  her  son's  supper  with  the 
most  maternal  solicitude.  She  took  from  the  press  a  small  leathern 
bag,  containing  an  old  battered  silver  cup  and  a  slight  fork  and  spoon, 
so  thin  and  so  much  worn  that  the  edge  of  the  spoon  was  sharp  as  that 
of  a  knife  ;  these  she  diligently  wiped  and  polished,  and  placed  her 
silver  service  (Dagobert's  wedding  present  to  her)  beside  the  plate  of 
her  son.  These  articles,  independent  of  the  trifling  intrinsic  value 
attached  to  them,  were  the  most  precious  of  all  Francoise's  earthly  pos- 
a,  from  {be  eOd,?a.Wg  t^Qqiati.Qmi  concerted,  with 


DAGOBERT'S  WIFE.  189 

bitter  had  bee.n  the  tears  shed  by  her  when,  under  the  pressure  of  some 
unexpected  misfortune,  such  as  illness,  or  cessation  from  employment, 
she  had  been  compelled  to  carry  these  treasures  to  the  pawnbroker's. 

These  preparations  completed,  Framboise  a  second  time  repaired  to 
the  closet,  and  from  the  lower  shelf  took  a  bottle  of  water,  and  an- 
other about  two-thirds  full  of  wine,  both  of  which  she  placed  beside  her 
son's  plate,  and  then  resumed  her  place  to  watch  his  supper. 

Although  the  hour  for  Agricola's  return  was  but  little  past,  yet  the 
countenance  of  the  mother  expressed  both  uneasiness  and  sorrow ;  and 
it  M-as  easy  to  perceive,  by  her  red  and  swollen  eyes,  that  that  grief 
had  found  vent  in  heavy  weeping.  Alas !  the  poor  woman,  after  long, 
painful  uncertainty,  had  just  arrived  at  the  distiessing  conviction  that 
her  eye-sight,  which  had  been  long  failing  her,  would  ere  long  prevent 
her  from  working  even  the  two  or  three  hours  she  had  latterly  been 
enabled  to  do. 

A  most  excellent  needlewoman  in  her  youth,  in  proportion  as  her 
eye-sight  failed  her  she  was  compelled  to  relinquish  the  finer  descrip- 
tion of  employment,  and  merely  take  work  of  a  coarser  sort,  for  which 
the  pay  was  necessarily  less,  till,  at  the  period  of  her  appearing  before 
the  reader,  her  only  occupation  was  in  making  sacks  for  the  army, 
which  required  sewing  about  twelve  feet  round,  the  price  for  making 
of  which  was  two  sous  a-piece,  she  finding  her  own  thread,  &c. ;  this 
work  being  both  troublesome  and  painful  to  the  fingers,  she  could  not 
at  the  utmost  earn  above  six  sous  a-day. 

It  is  grievous  to  think  of  the  great  number  of  unhappy  females 
whose  ill  health,  many  privations,  old  age,  or  sickness,  have  so  weak- 
ened their  bodily  strength,  that  it  is  with  extreme  difficulty  they  can 
even  earn  this  paltry  pittance.  It  would  seem  as  though  their  gains 
decreased  at  the  very  period  when,  from  years  and  infirmities,  their 
wants  are  daily  increasing. 

Happily  for  Fran9oise,  she  had  a  most  excellent  prop  in  her  son. 
A  first-rate  workman,  and  thankfully  profiting  by  all  the  privileges 
granted  by  M.  Hardy  to  those  who  chose  to  work  over-hours,  his 
labour  brought  in  as  much  as  five  or  six  francs  a-day — at  least  double 
that  gained  by  his  fellow-workmen  ;  therefore,  admitting  that  his  mother 
gained  nothing,  he  could  well  have  maintained  them  both. 

But  the  poor  woman,  so  economical  and  self-denying  as  to  refuse 
even  necessaries  for  herself,  had,  since  her  daily  and  assiduous  visits  to 
the  sacristy,  exhibited  habits  of  the  most  ruinous  expense.  Scarcely  a 
day  passed  in  which  she  did  not  cause  two  or  three  masses  to  be  said, 
or  tapers  to  be  burnt,  either  in  reference  to  Dagobert,  from  whom  she 
had  been  so  long  separated,  or  else  for  the  safety  of  her  son's  soul, 
which  she  shuddered  to  believe  was  in  the  high  road  to  perdition. 

Agricola  possessed  so  good,  so  generous  a  heart,  and  so  tenderly 
did  he  love  and  revere  his  parent,  and  so  deeply  did  he  sympathise  with 
her  many  sorrows,  both  of  body  and  mind,  that  never  once  did  he 
murmur  at  seeing  his  week's  earnings,  the  whole  of  which  he  regularly 
gave  to  his  parent,  thus  appropriated  to  pious  purposes. 

Occasionally  only  had  he  ventured  to  remark  to  his  mother  (with 
as  much  respect  as  tenderness),  that  it  deeply  pained  him  to  see  her, 
at  her  age,  denying  herself  those  comforts  her  years  and  failing  health 


190  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

doubly  demanded,  that  she  might  expend  the  means  required  for  her 
own  comfort  in  devotional  purposes. 

But  what  could  he  say  further,  when  his  fond  and  exemplary 
parent  would  say  to  him,  with  eyes  overflowing  with  tears,  "  My  child, 
it  is  to  procure  your  eternal  welfare  and  that  of  your  father  ?  " 

To  attempt  to  argue  with  Francoise  as  to  the  efficacy  of  masses  or 
candles  in  securing  the  past  or  present  salvation  of  Dagobert,  would  have 
been  to  open  a  controversy  which  Agricola,  out  of  respect  for  his  mo- 
ther's implicit  belief  in  the  sincerity  of  her  religious  notions,  had  ever 
carefully  abstained  from  touching  upon  ;  he,  therefore,  gave  up  the 
dear  enjoyment  of  those  visions  of  ease  and  happiness  for  his  dear 
mother,  which  ha/1  nerved  his  arm  to  extra  toil,  and  made  all  labour 
sweet,  in  the  fond  hope  of  providing  every  enjoyment  for  her  old  age. 

To  a  low  cautious  tap  at  the  door,  the  voice  of  Fran9oise  merely 
answered — "  Come  in  1 " 

The  visitor  entered. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   SISTER  OF    THE    BACCHANTE    QUEEN. 

THE  person  who  entered  at  Fran9oise's  bidding  was  a  young 
woman  of  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  diminutive  in  stature,  and 
cruelly  deformed.  Without  being  absolutely  humpbacked,  her  figure 
was  entirely  awry ;  she  stooped  excessively — so  much,  indeed,  as  to 
cause  her  chest  to  fall  inwards  in  a  complete  hollow,  while  her  head 
was  completely  buried  between  her  shoulders.  The  features  which 
composed  her  countenance  were  tolerably  good  and  regular,  but  the 
face  itself  was  long,  thin,  and  pallid,  deeply  marked  with  the  small- 
pox, yet  expressive  of  the  utmost-  sweetness-  and  gentle  resignation. 
By  a  strange  caprice,  Nature  had  bestowed  on  this  disfigured  head, 
hair  so  beautiful  and  luxuriant,  as  might  have  excited  the  envy  of  any 
modern  belle,  and  which  she  wore  in  one  thick  lustrous  plait,  twisted 
again  and  again  round  her  head,  and  ultimately  forming  a  rich  bright 
knot  at  the  back  of  it. 

She  carried  an  old  basket  in  her  hand.  Though  miserably  clad,  the 
neatness  and  cleanliness  of  her  apparel  struggled  powerfully  with  the 
meanness  of  her  attire.  Spite  of  the  extreme  cold,  she  was  dressed 
only  in  a  cotton  gown  of  indefinable  colour,  spotted  over  with  some 
kind  of  light  flowers  or  dots ;  but  from  the  frequent  washing  of  the 
garment  its  primitive  hue,  as  well  as  pattern,  was  so  completely  effaced 
as  to  render  all  guesses  on  the  subject  fruitless. 

It  was  easy  to  read  in  the  deep  expression  of  resigned  suffering,  so 
strongly  marked  on  the  features  of  this  poor  girl,  a  long  and  habitual 
endurance  of  slights,  miseries,  pain,  and  contempt  From  her  very 
birth  she  had  been  an  object  for  all  the  bitter  jests  and  jeers  the  vulgar 
and  the  coarse-minded  are  accustomed  to  bestow  on  bodily  deformity, 
wholly  forgetful  from  whose  hand  such  a  visitation  cometh ;  and,  in 
consequence  of  the  dreadful  distortion  of  her  figure,  had  even  been 
nicknamed  "  Humpy"  an  appellation  which  at  length  became  the  only 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN.  191 

title  by  which  she  was  ever  addressed.  And  so  completely  did  custom 
familiarise  even  her  friends  with  a  name,  the  very  uttering  of  which 
must  ever  remind  the  unfortunate  being  of  her  severe  affliction,  that 
even  Gabriel  and  Agricola,  as  kind  and  compassionate  towards  her  as 
others  were  unfeeling  and  brutal,  never  called  her  by  any  other. 

"  Humpy,"  as  we  shall  henceforward  style  her,  had  been  born  in 
the  house  in  which  Dagobert's  wife  had  resided  for  the  last  twenty 
years ;  so  that  the  poor  girl  had  in  a  manner  been  brought  up  with 
Agricola  and  Gabriel. 

It  would  appear  as  though  there  existed  some  unfortunate  beings 
doomed  to  misfortune  from  their  very  birth.  Humpy  had  a  very 
beautiful  sister,  on  whom  their  mother,  Perrine  Soliveau,  the  widow  of 
a  small  ruined  tradesman,  lavished  all  her  blind  and  absurd  affection ; 
bestowing  on  her  less-favoured  child  only  contempt,  dislike,  and  ill- 
usages.  Frequently  would  the  poor  weeping  girl,  driven  from  her 
mother's  presence,  fly  to  the  kind-hearted  Franchise,  who  permitted 
her  to  shed  her  tears  of  bitterness  on  her  maternal  bosom ;  then 
kindly  consoling  and  encouraging  her,  would  divert  her  mind  from 
dwelling  further  on  her  painful  position,  by  instructing  her  in  all  she 
knew  herself— namely,  to  read  and  to  sew. 

Accustomed  by  their  mother's  example  to  pity  and  commiserate 
poor  little  Humpy,  Gabriel  and  Agricola,  far  from  imitating  the  rude 
jeers  and  insulting  language  of  other  boys  of  their  age,  who  would 
even  proceed  to  mflict  blows  on  the  unoffending  girl,  took  delight  in 
shewing  her  every  kindness  in  defending  and  protecting  her. 

Matters  proceeded  thus  till  the  sisters  had  reached  the  respective 
ages  of  fifteen  and  seventeen,  when  their  mother  died,  leaving  them 
both  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  destitution. 

Cephyse  was  a  good-hearted  girl,  though  ridiculously  spoiled  and 
indulged  by  her  mother.  She  was  clever,  intelligent,  and  active, 
though  in  mind  and  character  as  completely  dissimilar  to  her  sister  as 
she  was  unlike  her  in  person.  She  was  one  of  those  restless,  vivacious 
natures,  whose  animal  spirits  are  ever  overflowing,  and  requiring 
constant  bustle,  excitement,  and  diversion,  to  keep  them  up  to  the 
same  level. 

For  some  time  submitting  to  the  sage  counsels  of  Fran9oise, 
Cephyse  tried  to  restrain  her  love  of  pleasure  and  ease,  and  to  submit 
herself  to  the  privations  of  her  orphan  state.  She  too  acquired  under 
the  same  kind  tuition  as  her  sister  a  knowledge  of  plain  sewing,  and 
for  a  whole  year  managed  to  maintain  herself  by  the  produce  of  her 
needle  ;  but  unable  to  endure  the  severe  self-denial  she  was  constrained 
to  practise,  and  finding  that,  spite  of  her  most  assiduous  efforts,  she 
could  scarcely  provide  the  merest  necessaries  of  life,  Cephyse,  young, 
beautiful,  and  impetuous,  beset  with  seductive  propositions  and 
brilliant  offers — for  so  they  appeared  to  the  young  sempstress,  when 
they  promised  her  abundance  of  food,  an  assurance  of  being  preserved 
from  the  severity  of  the  cold,  comfortable  clothing,  and  an  exemption 
from  working  at  least  fifteen  hours  a-day  in  a  wretched,  close,  and 
unhealthy  garret — yielded  at  length  to  the  impassioned  vows  of  a 
young  clerk  in  an  attorney's  office,  who  forsook  her  ere  long ;  when 
she  transferred  herself  and  her  charms  to  the  protection  of  a  merchant's 
clerk,  and  fickle,  in  her  turn,  quitted  him  for  a  travelling  clerk,  and, 


192  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

guided  by  whim  and  natural  volatility,  changed  her  lover  almost  as 
frequently  as  she  did  the  fashion  of  her  robe. 

Briefly,  after  a  year  or  two  of  alternate  changes  and  varieties  in  her 
loves  and  lovers,  C&physe  had  become  the  idol  of  a  world  composed  of 
grisettes,  students,  and  clerks ;  and  so  great  was  the  fame  and  cele- 
brity she  had  obtained  in  all  the  lull*  des  barrieres  by  her  decided  tone 
and  manner,  by  her  really  original  humour,  her  indefatigable  ardour 
in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and,  above  all,  for  her  frolicsome  gaiety 
and  inexhaustible  flow  of  spirits,  that  she  was  unanimously  styled 
"  The  Bacchante  Queen;"  a  dignity  she  shewed  herself  capable  of 
supporting  in  its  most  minute  detail. 

From  the  period  of  her  sister's  accession  to  this  noisy  species  of 
royal  elevation,  poor  Humpy  heard  of  her  only  by  chance,  and  at  long 
intervals.  She  deeply  deplored  her  wretched  mode  of  life,  and 
sincerely  praying  she  might  soon  quit  it,  the  patient  girl  devoted  herself 
with  unceasing  industry  to  her  needle,  as  a  means  of  livelihood  ;  but, 
alas  !  working  sixteen  or  eighteen  hours  a-day,  the  utmost  she  could 
earn  was  four  francs  a-week. 

Humpy's  employment  consisted  in  making,  by  Fran9oise's  instruc- 
tion, coarse  shirts  for  the  army  and  working  classes,  for  which  her 
payment  was  three  francs  (2s.  6c?.)  a  dozen  ! !  Yet  she  was  expected  to 
make  them  neatly  ;  to  stitch  the  collars,  wristbands,  &c.,  to  attend 
carefully  that  the  form  and  sloping  of  each  piece  was  accurately  done, 
to  overcast  the  button-holes,  and  sew  on  buttons,  &c. ;  so  that,  working 
without  intermission  the  hours  stated,  she  could  barely  complete 
fourteen  or  sixteen  shirts  in  eight  days,  including  even  the  Sunday  as 
a  day  of  toil.  The  result  of  all  these  weary  hours  of  continued  labour 
was  an  income  of  four  francs  a-week  ! 

Neither  was  this  poor  girl's  case  a  peculiar  or  isolated  one.  No ! 
thousands  of  young  women  could  no  more  then  than  noio  earn  a  larger 
sum. 

Who  will  deny,  after  this  plain  statement,  that  the  mode  of  remu- 
nerating females  is  as  unjust  as  it  is  cruel,  cold-hearted,  and  unworthy 
of  a  civilised  age  ?  They  receive  just  half  the  pay  of  men  who  occupy 
themselves  with  their  needle,  such  as  tailors,  waistcoat-makers,  glovers, 
&c.  &c.  Yet  women  work  an  equal  number  of  hours,  are  weak, 
delicate,  liable  to  fall  sick  from  too  close  an  application  to  their  needle, 
and  are  frequently  compelled,  in  addition  to  their  work,  to  provide  for 
the  little  household  wants  of  the  family — possibly  have  young  sickly 
children. 

And  Humpy  continued  to  live  upon  her  four  francs  a-week ! ! 
True  she  lived,  that  is  to  say,  that  by  dint  of  toiling  incessantly  fourteen 
or  sixteen  hours  a-day  she  did  manage  to  avoid  being  actually  starved 
to  death,  or  perishing  with  the  cold.  But  the  privations  she  endured  ! 
No  ! — privations  will  not  sufficiently  express  the  wretchedness,  the 
destitution,  the  daily  and  hourly  need  of  nearly  all  that  is  really 
required  to  preserve  the  body  in  health,  to  keep  alive  that  vital  spark, 
breathed  into  man  by  the  breath  of  BGod — that  is  to  say,  a  safe  and 
weather-proof  dwelling,  wholesome  and  sufficient  food,  with  warm, 
cleanly  garments.  Mortification  would  better  express  the  total  want  of 
those  comforts,  essentially  and  imperatively  needful  for  the  prolonga- 
tion of  our  existence,  and  which  in  an  enlightened  age,  such  as  the 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN.  193 

present,  ought  to  be  cheerfully  accorded  to  the  active  and  industrious 
work/now  or  woman,  whose  integrity  and  health  are  their  only  earthly 
possessions. 

'Tis  true  the  wild  denizen  of  nature,  living  in  uncivilised  climes, 
can  subsist  alone  and  unaided,  but  tie  has  free  choice  of  each  animal 
of  the  forest  for  food;  or  he  may  select  any  bird  that  flies — he  may 
take  from  the  abundance  of  the  rivers  or  lakes — he  may  eat  of  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  and  warm  and  shelter  himself  beneath  the  wide- 
stretching  arms  of  the  leafy  trees :  "  no  man  sayeth  him  nay."  But  the 
dweller  in  civilised  lands,  disinherited  of  these  mighty  gifts  of  a  muni- 
ficent Creator,  and  taught,  while  smarting  under  every  privation,  to 
regard  the  rights  of  proprietorship  as  sacred  and  holy,  may  at  least 
claim,  in  return  for  the  labour  and  toil  which  enriches  his  country,  the 
simple  reward  which  shall  give  him  wherewithal  to  live  healthily — 
neither  more  nor  less.  For  can  life  consist  in  dragging  on  a  weary  and 
ceaseless  strife,  in  the  narrow  limits  which  separates  existence  from  the 
tomb,  witli  cold,  hunger,  sickness,  and  every  consequent  misery  ? 

And  further  to  display  the  lengths  to  which  this  mortification  may  be 
carried  by  a  pitiless  world,  deaf  to  the  repeated  representations  of  such 
as  plead  for  a  just  remuneration  for  the  labour  of  thousands  of  honest 
and  industrious,  though  half-starved,  fellow  creatures,  we  will  give  an 
exact  detail  of  the  mode  in  which  four  francs  a-wcck  will  enable  any 
poor  female  to  live. 

May  these  particulars  suffice  to  obtain  sympathy,  if  not  relief,  for 
so  large  a  body  of  unfortunate  beings,  who  endure,  with  such  patience 
and  resignation,  a  mode  of  existence,  which  is  just  so  much  like  life,  as 
it  serve:*  each  moment  to  display  the  pains  and  sorrows  of  the  primeval 
curse — that  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  man  should  eat  bread. 

To  drag  on  such  a  daily  chain  of  wants  and  privations,  requires 
virtue  of  the  firmest  and  most  uncompromising  description;  and  while 
society,  organised  us  it  now  is,  either  tolerates  or  imposes  such  heavy 
burdens,  it  has  no  right  to  question  the  conduct  of  unhappy  beings 
who  sink  into  guilt,  not  because  they  are  naturally  depraved,  but 
because  they  are  hungry,  cold,  and  wretched.  Behold,  then,  the 
various  items  which  consumed  the  poor  sempstress's  four  francs  a- 
week : — 

centiemet. 

Six  pounds  of  bread,  second  quality  .  .  .84 

Two  pails  of  water  ....  20 

Lard  or  dripping  (butter  being  too  dear)  .  .  .50 

Coarse  salt  .....  7 

A  bushel  of  coals  .  .  .  .  .40 

A  pint  of  dried  vegetables  ....  30 

Three  pints  of  potatoes       .  .  .  .  .20 

A  candle  .....  33 

Needles  and  thread  .  .  .  .  .25 


Total      .        .         3/.  i»c. 

In  order  to  save  her  firing,  La  Mayeux  prepared  a  species  of  soup 
twice  or  thrice  in  the  week,  on  a  small  stove  placed  on  the  landing- 
place  of  the  fourth  story,  the  intermediate  days  she  took  the  soup 
quite  cold. 

Thus,  after  barely  allowing  herself  one  scanty  comfortless  meal  a- 
13  u 


194  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

day,  there  remained  less  than  a  franc,  ninety-one  centiemes  (or  about 
nine  pence  English),  to  provide  her  with  clothing,  washing,  and 
lodging.* 

By  a  wonderful  chance,  the  position  of  La  Mayeux  was  rendered 
singularly  easy  in  one  respect,  and  that  was  as  regarded  her  rent. 
Agricola,  who  well  knew  the  over-sensitiveness  of  the  poor  girl,  had 
arranged  with  the  porter  to  let  her  have  a  small  chamber  at  the  very 
top  of  the  house,  for  the  trifling  sum  of  twelve  francs  a-year ;  for  this 
small  and  confined  space,  which  barely  admitted  a  bed,  a  table,  and  a 
chair,  Agricola  also  paid  eighteen  francs  per  annum,  making  up,  with 
La  Mayeux's  twelve,  the  thirty  which  formed  its  real  price.  So  that, 
after  defraying  her  share  of  the  monthly  rent,  there  remained  about 
seven  pence  over  for  all  other  claims  and  purposes. 

Hundreds,  nay,  thousands  of  females,  subsisting  like  La  Mayeux, 
by  the  produce  of  their  needle,  have  not  the  happy  privilege  she 
enjoyed  of  an  apartment  to  herself.  Those  who  are  without  either 
home  or  friends,  buy  a  piece  of  bread  or  any  common  food  for  their 
day's  subsistence,  and  for"  the  payment  of  one  or  two  sous  per  night 
obtain  half  a  bed  with  some  female  companion,  in  a  wretched  room  in 
which  there  are  generally  five  or  six  beds,  the  greater  number  of 
which  are  occupied  by  men,  who  usually  form,  in  these  abodes  of  dirt 
and  squalor,  the  largest  proportion  of  visitors.  And,  spite  of  the 
disgust  and  repugnance  with  which  a  virtuous  and  pure  mind  at  first 
beholds  this  manner  of  indiscriminate  sleeping,  there  is  no  help  for 
her;  the  landlord  or  landlady  of  the  house  would  never  take  the 
trouble  to  arrange  separate  rooms  for  the  separate  sexes,  and  the 
streets  is  her  only  alternative  if  she  refuses  the  present  asylum. 

And  supposing  that  a  sempstress  should  desire  to  provide  a  fur- 
nished room  for  herself,  however  meanty  or  wretchedly  she  may  do  it, 
an  outlay  of  from  thirty  to  forty  francs  is  indispensable.  And  how  is 
this  sum  to  be  obtained  out  of  the  hardly  earned  pittance  of  four  or 
five  francs  a-week  ?  which  barely  suffices  to  give  her  clothing  suffi- 
cient to  appear  in,  or  to  buy  her  so  much  food  as  shall  prevent  her 
from  being  starved  to  death. 

Alas !  alas !  the  unhappy  victim  of  poverty  and  scanty  pay  is, 
however  reluctantly,  compelled  to  resign  herself  to  this  corrupt  and 

*  Some  of  these  details,  which  have  been  submitted  to  the  most  rigid  scrutiny, 
the  result  of  which  has  been  the  eliciting  of  particulars  still  more  distressing,  are 
taken  from  a  most  clever  work  by  M.  Janomu,  a  mechanist,  and  published  in  the 
Ruche  Popiilaire ;  .  a  journal  conducted  by  artisans  and  .working  people,  with  as 
much  impartiality  as  truth,  under  the  superintendence  of  M.  Duquesne,  a  printer.  M. 
Janoma  adds,  and  but  with  too  much  truth, "  We  have  both  known  and  seen  women 
and  children. subsisting  for  months  together  on  soup,  made  without  either  butter  or 
grease — nothing  hut  bread  boiled  in  .water,  with  a  littla  salt !"  The  same  writer 
wisely  remarks  that  the  workwoman  cannot  purchase  her  provisions  in  large  quan. 
titi^s,  because  her  employer  has  not  always  work  to  give  her;  thus,  therefore, she  is 
constrained  to  buy  a  small  loaf,  a  hu'porth  of  salt,  a  single  candle,  &c.,  which  is  much 
to  her  disadvantage,  fractions  of  pieces  always  being  on  the  profit  side  of  the  seller 
instead  of  the  buyer. 

We  shall  further  add,  that  under  any  circumstances  the  poor  always  pay  nearly 
double  the  price  given  by  the  rich,  from  being  compelled  to  buy  in  small  quantities, 
and  to  pay  ready  money.  Thus  a  load  of  wood,  which  might  have  been  bought  for 
half  the  sum,  is  sold  out  in  fagots  to  the  poor,  and  realises  from  seventy  to  eighty 
francs  the  load. 


THE  SISTER  OF  THB  BACCHANTE  QUEEN.  195 

demoralising  mode  of  life  ;  which,  by  imperceptible  degrees,  wears 
away  the  finer  edges  of  that  modest  and  chaste  reserve  which  lias 
preserved  her  from  the  attacks  of  the  libertine  or  the  seductions  of  the 
wicked.  Vice  ceases  to  inspire  her  with  the  horror  it  once  did — she 
now  sees  in  it  the  only  means  of  escape  from  the  intolerable  hardships 
of  her  situation — she  yields  to  her  fate — and  another  lost  creature 
furnishes  a  theme  for  the  animadversion  of  the  rich  landholder,  who 
laments  the  difficulty  of  placing  virtuous  attendants  about  his  young 
daughters  ;^  "  the  present  race  of  females  being,"  as  he  says,  "  so  very 
depraved  !6 

But  to  return  to  the  hard-worked,  ill-paid  sempstress.  There  are 
other  evils  to  be  considered:  the  small  pay,  the  aching  head  and 
fingers,  are,  after  all,  blessings  to  be  eagerly  sought  for  in  comparison 
with  the  reverse  of  the  picture. 

Suppose  she  is  without  work  at  all  for  two  or  three  days  ! 

Should  she  fall  sick,  and  be  incapable  of  working  !  And  what  so 
likely  to  produce  disease  as  insufficient  or  unwholesome  food,  want  of 
air,  of  rest,  of  common  care  ?  all  which  generally  tend  to  weaken  the 
body  and  enervate  the  system  to  such  a  degree  as  to  render  all  exer- 
tion painful,  while  the  symptoms  are  not  sufficiently  alarming  or 
dangerous  to  claim  the  privilege  of  admission  into  an  hospital. 

Then  what  becomes  of  these  destitute  creatures  ?  The  imagination 
sickens  and  turns  away  from  the  painful  and  appalling  picture. 

To  the  unequal  and  insufficient  payment  allowed  to  female  workers, 
the  source  of  unimaginable  guilt,  wretchedness,  and  despair,  may  be 
attributed  the  misfortunes  and  crimes  of  thousands  of  poor  crea- 
tures, striving  in  vain  to  live  honestly  and  virtuously  on  four  francs 
a-week ;  and,  be  it  well  remembered,  we  are  not  describing  an  indi- 
vidual case,  but  the;  misery  of  an  entire  class.  The  character  of  La 
Mayeux,  such  as  we  shall  endeavour  to  portray  her,  may  serve  as  a 
model  of  the  moral  and  bodily  condition  of  thousands  of  fellow- 
creatures,  battling  against  all  the  ills  of  life,  upon  a  wretched  hard- 
earned  pittance  of  four  francs  a-week  ! 

Poor  Mayeux,  spite  of  the  assistance  she  owed,  though  uncon- 
sciously, to  the  generosity  of  Agricola,  lived  in  a  state  almost  amount- 
ing to  absolute  want.  Her  health,  always  feeble,  became  seriously 
affected  by  her  many  privations  ;  yet,  by  an  excess  of  delicacy — although 
utterly  ignorant  of  Agricola's  kind  but  generous  aid — the  poor  girl 
affected  to  earn  more  than  she  really  did,  in  order  to  avoid  those  offers 
of  service  which  would  have  been  most  painful  to  her,  from  her 
knowledge  of  the  many  wants  experienced  both  by  Franchise  and  her 
son,  and  because  it  was  wholly  at  variance  with  the  naturally  sus- 
ceptible turn  of  her  mind  (a  bias,  indeed,  which  her  constant  humili- 
ations and  daily  hardships  had  almost  brought  into  a  state  of  morbid 
sensitiveness)  to  crave  the  pity  or  seek  the  assistance  of  her  dear 
friends,  already  so  sorely  bowed  down  with  their  own  trials. 

But,  strange  to  say,  the  distorted,  ill-favoured  body  Nature  had 
bestowed  on  La  Mayeux,  concealed  a  deep  and  loving  nature ;  a 
heart  generous  and  affectionate  to  any  extent,  and  a  mind  of  even 
poetic  taste  and  cultivation — yes,  cultivation  ;  for  let  us  hasten  to 
explain  the  improbability  by  saying,  that  this  wondrous  phenomenon 
had  arisen  from  the  example  of  Agricola  Baudoin,  whose  early  poetical 


190  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

genius  had  quickly  developed  itself,  and  with  whom  La  Mayeux  had 
been  almost  entirely  brought  up. 

The  poor  girl  had  been  the  first  confidant  of  Agricola's  literary 
essays,  and  when  the  young  smith  talked  to  her  of  the  charm  he 
experienced,  and  the  recreation  he  found  in  the  charms  of  poetry,  and 
how  its  entrancing  reveries  solaced  and  refreshed  him  after  a  hard 
day's  toil,  the  poor  sempstress,  endowed  with  a  mind  and  understanding 
of  no  ordinary  stamp,  began  to  think  how  such  a  pursuit  might  also 
cheer  her,  in  her  long,  tedious,  and  solitary  days  spent  in  bending 
over  her  needle. 

One  day  that  Agricola  had  just  read  to  her  a  copy  of  his  last 
verses,  La  Mayeux  turned  very  red,  hesitated,  and  at  length,  after 
many  efforts,  besought  his  patience  while  she,  too,  confided  to  him  a 
poetical  secret  of  her  own. 

The  verses  she  repeated  were,  doubtless,  deficient  in  both  rhythm 
and  harmony,  but  they  were  touching  and  simple ;  consisting  merely 
of  laments  untinged  by  bitterness,  and  complaints  unmarked  by  envy 
or  ill  will,  but  merely  intended  to  reach  the  pitying  heart  of  one 
dearly  loved  friend.  From  this  hour  she  and  Agricola  mutually  con- 
sulted and  encouraged  each  other ;  but,  with  the  exception  of  the 
young  smith,  no  creature  in  the  world  suspected  La  Mayeux  of  being 
poetical :  on  the  contrary,  thanks  to  her  extreme  shyness  and  awkward- 
ness, she  passed  with  most  persons  as  not  being  far  removed  from  a 
fool. 

The  soul  of  this  unfortunate  girl  must  have  been  noble  and  mag- 
nanimous, for  never,  in  these  her  wild  and  untaught  verses,  did  one 
line  expressive  of  anger,  hatred,  or  discontent  at  her  lot,  find  admission  : 
it  was  one  strain  of  gentle  sadness  of  despair,  mingled  with  submission 
and  resignation  to  a  fate  too  hopeless  to  promise  relief ;  a  continued 
flow  of  infinite  tenderness  and  loving-kindness,  combined  with  a  keen 
sympathy  for  all  similarly  situated  and  affected  as  herself;  a  chant  of 
universal  charity  and  good-will  towards  all  unhappy  beings,  doomed 
like  herself  to  bear  the  double  burthen  of  bodily  deformity  and 
extreme  misery ;  still,  occasionally  breaking  out  into  eulogiums  upon 
the  charms  of  beauty,  which  she  praised  without  envying,  and  admired 
at  a  distance  with  the  admiration  she  experienced  at  beholding  the 
bright  and  glorious  sun. 

But  the  young  poetess  did  not  recite  all  her  compositions,  even  to 
Agricola ;  and  there  were  some  verses  she  would  have  died  ere  he 
should  have  heard.  The  young  smith,  without  being  regularly  hand- 
some, had  a  fine,  manly,  prepossessing  countenance ;  was  as  good- 
hearted  as  noble,  ardent,  courageous,  and  generous  ;  his  disposition 
was  mirthful  yet  gentle,  and  open  as  that  of  a  child,  while  his  mind  was 
of  the  highest  order  of  intellectual  excellence. 

The  poor  sempstress,  brought  up  with  him,  loved  him  with  all  the 
depth  of  a  passion  such  a  nature  as  hers  would  feel  for  the  one  person 
upon  earth  on  whom  was  concentrated  all  her  fondest  affection,  but 
which  an  instructive  consciousness  of  its  being  impossible  to  recipro- 
cate such  a  regard  made  her  carefully  bury  in  the  recesses  of  her  own 
heart.  Compelled  by  her  own  reflections  to  this  reserve,  this  profound 
concealment,  La  Mayeux  sought  not  to  escape  from  her  love.  "  What 
would  it  ever  signify  ? "  said  she,  mentally :  "  Agricola  would  never 


THE  SISTER  OF  THE  BACCHANTE  QUEEN.  197 

know  any  thing  about  it."  And,  besides,  her  habitual  and  well-known 
sisterly  affection  for  him  was  always  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the, 
lively  interest  she  took  in  all  that  concerned  him ;  and  from  the  same 
cause  the  deadly  anguish  she  endured  when,  after  having  bravely 
combatted  in  1830,  Agricola  had  been  carried  home  to  his  mother's 
covered  with  blood  and  wounds,  passed  unheeded. 

Deceived  equally  with  others  as  to  the  existence  of  a  warmer  senti- 
ment, the  son  of  Dagobert  had  never  for  one  instant  suspected  the 
deeply  rooted  attachment  of  La  Mayeux. 

Such,  then,  was  the  humbly  attired  individual  who  entered  the, 
chamber  of  Francoise,  while  she  was  engaged  in  preparations  for  her 
son's  supper. 

"  Is  it  you,  my  poor  Mayeux  ?  "  said  she  :  "  I  have  not  seen  you 
all  day.  You  have  not  been  ill,  I  hope  ?  Come  and  give  me  a 
kiss." 

The  young  girl  tenderly  embraced  the  mother  of  Agricola  }and 
replied, — 

"  I  had  some  work  I  Was  obliged  to  finish,  Madame  Francoise,  and 
1  did  not  wish  to  lose  a  minute.  I  have  only  just  finished  it.  I  am 
going  out  for  a  few  coals ;  do  you  want  any  thing  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child,  thank  you.  But  I  am  very  uneasy.  It  is  half- 
past  eight,  and  Agricola  is  not  yet  returned."  Then  she  added  with  a 
sigh,  "  He  Avorks  himself  to  death  for  me.  Ah,  my  dear  Mayeux,  I 
am  very  unhappy  !  My  eyesight  is  quite  gone ;  at  the  end  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  I  can  see  nothing  —  nothing  at  all ;  all  is  misty  and  con- 
fused. I  cannot  work  many  minutes  together,  even  at  making  these 
coarse  sacks.  The  idea  of  being  wholly  a  burden  on  my  son  almost 
breaks  my  heart." 

"  Ah,  Madame  Francoise !  what  \vould  Agricola  say  if  he  heard 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  know  full  well ;  the  dear  boy  thinks  of  nothing  but  me, 
and  that  makes  me  grieve  the  more.  And  then,  too,  I  always  remem- 
ber that,  because  he  will  not  quit  me,  he  denies  himself  the  privileges 
his  fellow-workmen  enjoy  from  the  kind  indulgence  of  their  wealthy 
and  excellent  employer,  M.  Hardy.  Instead  of  inhabiting  here  a 
wretched  garret,  where  air  and  light  can  scarcely  find  admittance,  he 
might,  like  the  rest  of  the  establishment,  have  a  large,  light,  airy  cham- 
ber— cool  and  healthy  in  summer,  and  well-warmed  and  comfortable  in 
winter — looking  out  upon  trees  and  gardens,  of  which  he  is  so  fond; 
and  all  this  he  might  have  at  a  very  trifling  expense,  and  so  save 
himself  the  long  fatiguing  walk  from  hence  to  his  workshop,  which  is 
situated  in  the  environs  of  Paris." 

"  But  he  forgets  all  his  fatigue  when  he  sees  you  again,  Madame 
Baudoin  ;  and  as  he  knows  full  well  how  greatly  you  love  this  place  in 

which  he  was  born Why,  M.  Hardy  has  even  offered  to  give  you 

apartments  with  Agricola,  in  the  establishment  he  has  built  for  his 
workpeople  at  Passy." 

"But  then,  my  child,  I  must  have  abandoned  my  parish  and  my 
church  ;  and  —  I  —  cannot  do  that." 

"  Hush  !  Madame  Franroise  ;  I  hear  some  one  coming.  Yes," 
said  La  Mayeux,  her  pale  cheeks  turning  a  deep  red  ;  "  'tis  he  I  Now 
your  fears  are  over." 


198  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

And  as  she  spoke,  the  sounds  of  a  rich  sonorous  voice,  chanting  a 
merry  song,  were  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"  I  must  not  let  him  find  me  in  tears,"  said  the  affectionate  mother, 
hastily  wiping  the  large  drops  from  her  eyes.  *•  This  is  his  only  respite 
from  toil  and  fatigue.  Do  not  let  me  destroy  the  only  peaceful  enjoy- 
ment he  ever  obtains,  that  of  spending  an  hour  with  his  half-blind 
mother. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN. 

THE  poet-smith  was  a  tall  young  fellow,  about  four-and-twenty 
years  of  age,  active  and  powerful,  with  a  pale  complexion  and  black 
hair  and  eyes,  with  an  aquiline  nose,  and  a  bold,  energetic,  and  open 
countenance.  His  resemblance  to  Dagobert  was  the  more  striking  as 
he  wore,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  a  thick  brown  moustache, 
and  his  beard,  cut  to  a  point,  only  covered  his  chin,  his  cheeks  being 
cleanly  shaved  from  the  angle  of  the  jaw  to  the  temples.  He  was 
attired  in  velveteen  trousers,  a  blue  blouse  stained  with  the  smoke  of 
the  forge,  a  black  silk  handkerchief  tied  carelessly  round  his  sinewy 
neck,  and  a  cap  with  a  short  peak.  The  only  thing  that  contrasted 
with  these  garments  of  toil  was  a  magnificent  large  flower  of  deep 
purple,  with  petals  as  white  as  silver,  which  the  smith  held  in  his 
hand. 

"  Good  evening,  mother  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  and  embraced 
Francoise  ;  then,  nodding  his  head  in  a  friendly  way  to  the  young  girl, 
he  added,  "  Oh  I  good  evening,  little  Mayeux." 

"  You  are  late  this  evening,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Francoise,  turning 
towards  the  little  pan  in  which  was  the  small  repast  of  her  son.  "  I 
was  getting  uneasy." 

"  Uneasy  about  me  or  the  supper,  mother  ? "  inquired  Agricola, 
gaily.  "  Oh,  the  deuce !  will  you  never  forgive  me  for  keeping  my 
supper  waiting  a  little  bit?  Though  it  is  because  you  think  it  will 
spoil.  You  naughty  woman,  you  !  go  along  with  you ! " 

And  as  the  smith  said  this,  ho  kissed  his  mother  again. 

"  Leave  off,  you  naughty  boy,  you  1  you  will  make  me  upset  the 
pan." 

"  That  would  be  a  pity,  mother,  of  course,  since  it  smells  so  good. 
Let 's  see  what  you've  got  for  me." 

"  No,  no ;  wait  and  see." 

"  I  '11  bet  a  wager  that  you've  got  some  potatoes  fried  in  lard, 
which  I  adore." 

"  Isn't  it  Saturday?"  said  Francoise,  in  a  tone  of  gentle  reproach. 

"  True,"  said  Agricola,  exchanging  a  knowing  smile  with  La 
Mayeux.  "  But,  talking  of  Saturday,  here,  mother,  are  my  week's 
wages." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  boy ;  put  it  in  the  wardrobe." 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN.  199 

"  I  will,  mother." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  young  workgirl,  as  Agricola  was  placing  the 
money  in  the  wardrobe,  "  what  a  beautiful  flower  you  have  in 
your  hand,  Agricola  !  I  never  saw  such  a  one ;  and  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  too !  Only  look,  Madame  Francoise." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Agricola,  going  towards  his  mother  to  shew 
her  the  flower.  "  Look,  admire,  and,  above  all,  smell  it ;  it  is  im- 
possible to  have  a  sweeter  and  more  agreeable  scent — it  is  a  mixture 
of  vanilla  and  orange  flower."* 

"  Yes,  my  dear  child,  the  odour  is  delicious.  How  beautiful  it 
is,  too  !  Where  did  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Find  it,  mother ! "  said  Agricola,  laughing.  Diable !  do  you 
think  these  Howers  are  picked  up  in  the  highway  coming  from  the 
Barrier  du  Maine  to  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  ?  " 

"  And  how,  then,  did  you  find  it  ?  "  said  La  Mayeux,  who  shared 
Francoise's  curiosity. 

"  Ah  !  what,  curious  ?  Well,  then,  I  "11  tell  you ;  and  it  will 
account  for  my  being  a  little  later  than  usual,  my  dear  mother,  although 
something  else  detained  me  as  well.  It  is  really  an  evening  of  adven- 
tures. I  was  coming  home  at  a  good  pace,  and  had  already  reached 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  when  I  heard  a  little  low  and 
plaintive  howl.  It  was  still  rather  light,  and  when  I  looked  down,  I 
saw  one  of  the  prettiest  little  dogs  I  ever  beheld,  no  bigger  than  my 
fist,  black  and  red,  with  his  ears  falling  on  the  ground,  and  feathered 
all  down  to  its  very  paws." 

"  It  was  lost,  no  doubt,"  said  Fran9oise. 

"  Yes.  I  took  the  poor  little  thing  up,  and  it  began  to  lick  my 
hands.  It  had  round  its  neck  a  piece  of  wide  red  satin  riband,  tied  in 
a  large  bow.  I  looked  under  the  riband,  and  discovered  a  small  collar 
made  of  little  links  of  gold,  or  gilt  metal,  with  a  small  plate.  I  took  a 
match  out  of  my  tobacco-box,  rubbed  it,  and  obtained  light  enough 
to  read, 

"  LUTINE  belongs  to  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  Rue  de 
Babylone,  No.  7." 

"  Why,  fortunately,  you  were  in  the  very  street,"  said  La  Mayeux. 

"  As  you  say.  So  I  took  the  little  thing  under  my  ami,  and,  turn- 
ing down  the  street,  I  came  to  a  long  garden  wall,  at  the  end  of  which 
I  reached  the  door  of  a  little  lodge,  which,  no  doubt,  belongs  to  a  large 
mansion  which  is  situated  at  the  farther  end  of  the  park  wall ;  for  this 
garden  is  just  like  a  park.  I  looked  up  and  saw  the  No.  7,  which  had 
been  freshly  painted,  over  a  small  wicket  door.  I  rung  the  bell,  and, 
after  a  few  minutes,  which,  no  doubt,  were  passed  in  examining  me 
(for  I  thought  I  saw  two  eyes  through  the  grating  of  the  wicket),  the 
door  opened.  But,  now,  you  '11  hardly  believe  what  I  am  going 
to  say." 

"  Why  not,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  just  like  a  fairy  tale." 

"  A  fairy  tale  ?  "  said  La  Mayeux. 

"  Yes,  for  I  was  and  am  still  quite  dazzled  and  bewildered  with  all 
I  saw.  It  is  like  the  vague  remembrance  of  a  dream." 

*  The  splendid  flower  of  the  Crinum  amabile,  a  beautiful  bulbous  hot-house  plant. 


200  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Well,  go  on — go  on!  toll  us  all  about  it,"  said  the  good  mother, 
so  interested  that  she  did  not  perceive  that  her  son's  supper  was 
beginning  to  scorch  a  little. 

"  Well,  then,"  replied  the  young  smith,  smiling  at  the  curiosity 
which  his  recital  inspired,  "a  young  woman  opened  the  door,  so 
handsome  and  so  singularly  but  beautifully  dressed,  that  she  looked 
like  a  lovely  portrait  of  the  olden  time.  I  had  not  spoken  a  word 
before  she  exclaimed, 

"  'Ah,  sir!  what,  have  you  found  Lutine,  and  brought  him  back 
ngain?  Oh,  how  glad  Ma'amselle  Adrienne  will  be!  Follow  me  — 
come  along  —  or  she  will  regret  not  to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  herself,  and  thanking  you.'  And,  without  giving  me  time  to  reply, 
the  young  person  made  me  a  sign  to  follow  her.  And  now,  mother 
dear,  to  tell  you  all  I  saw  that  was  fine  and  magnificent,  as  I  crossed 
a  small  apartment,  only  half-lighted  up,  but  which  smelt  deliciously, 
would  be  a  perfect  impossibility.  The  young  lass  tripped  along  very 
quickly,  and  opened  a  door.  There,  then,  was  a  sight  I  I  was  so 
astonished  that  I  can  remember  nothing  but  a  sort  of  combination  of 
gold  and  light,  crystal  and  flowers  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
glitter  was  a  young  lady —  oh  !  so  beautiful !  Such  a  beauty  as  one 
only  sees  in  dreams.  She  had  red  hair,  or  rather  bright  gold  colour. 
It  was  charming.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  such  hair.  And  then,  too, 
she  had  black  eyes,  red  lips,  and  was  so  fair  that  I  cannot  compare 
her  to  any  thing.  That's  all  I  remember,  for  I  tell  you  I  was  so 
surprised,  so  astounded,  that  I  seemed  as  though  I  was  looking  through 
a  veil. 

" '  Mademoiselle,'  said  the  young  girl,  whom  I  never  could  have 
taken  for  a  femme  de  chambre,  she  was  so  elegantly  dressed,  '  here  is 
Lutine.  This  gentleman  has  found  him,  and  brought  him  back.' 

"  '  Ah,  sir  1 '  said  the  young  lady  with  the  golden  locks,  in  a  voice 
which  sounded  like  a  silver  bell;  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  suf- 
ficiently? I  am  so  foolishly  fond  of  Lutine.'  Then  judging,  no 
doubt,  by  my  dress,  that  she  might,  and  perhaps  ought  to  thank  me 
otherwise  than  by  words,  she  took  a  small  silk  purse,  which  was  beside 
her,  and  said  to  me,  with  some  hesitation  certainly,  *  Sir,  I  am  afraid 
you  have  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  bringing  Lutine  here,  and  you 

have,  perhaps,  lost  much  precious  time ;  pray  allow  me ' and  she 

offered  me  the  purse." 

"  Ah,  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  of  vexation,  "  how 
people  mistake !" 

"  Wait  for  the  end,  and  you  will  forgive  the  young  lady.  Seeing, 
no  doubt,  by  the  glance  of  my  eye,  that  she  had  wounded  me  by  such 
an  offer,  she  took  from  a  magnificent  vase  of  porcelain,  which  was 
near  her,  this  superb  flower;  and,  addressing  me  in  a  voice  full  of 
sweetness  and  kindness,  which  shewed  how  much  she  regretted  having 
wounded  me,  she  said, 

"  '  Then,  at  least,  sir,  yon  will  accept  this  flower ! ' ' 

"  You  are  right,  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  with  a  melancholy 
smile;  "it  is  impossible  to  make  a  more  gracious  amends  for  an 
involuntary  offence." 

"  Worthy  young  lady ! "  said  FraU9oise,  wiping  her  eyes ;  "  how 
well  she  understood  my  Agricola ! " 


AOR1COLA     RETURNING    LUTINK. 


London:  Chapman  and  Hall.     April  I, 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIN.  201 

"Didn't  she,  mother?  Well,  at  the  very  moment  when  I  was 
taking  the  flower,  without  venturing  to  lift  up  my  eyes,  for,  although 
I  am  not  timid,  yet  there  was  something  in  this  young  lady  so  com- 
manding, although  she  was  so  amiable,  a  door  opened,  and  another 
very  handsome  young  girl,  tall  and  dark,  attired  in  a  very  peculiar 
but  becoming  costume,  said  to  the  young  lady  with  the  red  hair, 
'  Mademoiselle,  he  is  t/iere.'  She  rose  directly,  and  saying  to  me, 
4  A  thousand  pardons,  sir ;  I  shall  never  forget  that  I  have  owed  to 
you  a  moment  of  deep  gratification  —  pray  do  not  forget  my  address, 
and  the  name  of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,'  she  withdrew. 

"  I  did  not  say  one  word  in  reply.  The  young  girl  conducted  me 
hack  again,  and,  making  me  a  very  nice  curtsey  at  the  door,  lo  and 
behold !  I  found  myself  again  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  as  much  over- 
come and  astonished,  I  tell  you  again,  as  if  I  had  just  come  out  of  an 
enchanted  palace." 

"  Really,  my  dear  boy,  it  is  quite  like  a  fairy  tale ;  isn't  it,  little 
Mayeux?" 

"  Yes,  Madame  Frai^oise,"  said  the  young  girl,  with  an  absent  and 
thoughtful  air,  which  Agricola  did  not  remark. 

"What  touched  me  most,"  he  resumed,  "was,  that  this  young 
lady,  delighted  as  she  was  at  having  her  little  pet  back  again,  instead 
of  forgetting  me,  as  so  many  others  would  have  done  in  her  place,  did 
not  bestow  all  her  attention  upon  it,  which  shews  consideration  and 
feeling ;  doesn't  it,  Mayeux  ?  I  really  think  her  so  good  and  kind- 
hearted,  that  in  any  important  case  I  should  not  hesitate  to  address 
her." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  still  more  pensively. 

The  poor  girl  was  suffering  acutely ;  she  did  not  experience  any 
hatred  or  jealousy  against  the  young  unknown  lady,  who  by  her  beauty 
and  her  wealth,  her  delicacy  and  her  conduct,  seemed  to  belong  to  a 
sphere  so  high  and  grand,  that  La  Mayeux's  imagination  could  not 
even  reach  it ;  but,  involuntarily  reflecting  on  her  own  forlorn  posi- 
tion, the  poor  lone  creature  had  never  before  so  keenly  felt  the  pangs 
of  deformity  and  misery.  Still  such  was  the  humble  and  calm  resig- 
nation of  her  noble  mind,  that  the  only  feeling  that  arose  within  her 
against  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  the  offer  of  her  purse  to  Agricola. 
But  the  delicate  and  feeling  way  in  which  the  young  lady  had  repaired 
her  error  deeply  affected  poor  Mayeux. 

Yet  her  heart  was  sorely  wounded,  and  she  could  not  repress  her 
tears  when  she  looked  at  the  splendid  flower,  so  full  of  beauty  and 
odour,  which,  presented  by  a  hand  so  charming,  must  be  most  precious 
to  Agricola. 

"  Now,  mammy,"  said  the  young  smith,  who  did  not  see  La 
Mayeux's  emotion,  "  you  have  heard  the  main  cause  of  my  delay — 
story  No.  1 .  Story  No.  2  is,  that  as  I  entered  I  met  the  dyer  on  tin; 
stairs,  whose  arms  were  all  of  a  splendid  bright  green  colour.  He 
stopped  me  in  a  great  fright,  and  told  me  that  he  had  seen  a  well- 
dressed  man  walking  backwards  and  forwards,  as  though  he  were  a  spy 
watching  the  house. 

*« '  Well,'  said  I,  « what 's  that  to  you,  master  Loriot  ?  Are  you 
afraid  he'll  steal  the  secret  of  your  splendid  green  dye,  which  orna- 
ments your  arms  up  to  your  shoulder  ?'  " 


202  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  But  who  can  the  individual  be,  Agricola?"  said  Franchise. 

••  Upon  my  word,  my  dear  mother,  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea 
nor  the  smallest  care.  I  told  Daddy  Loriot,  who  chatters  always  like 
a  magpie,  to  go  back  to  his  cellar,  as  no  doubt  this  spy  was  about  of 
as  much  consequence  to  him  as  to  me." 

So  saying,  Agricola  went  to  place  the  little  leather  purse  which 
held  his  wages  in  the  drawer  in  the  press. 

At  the  moment  when  Francoise  placed  her  saucepan  on  the  corner 
of  the  table,  La  Mayeux,  rising  quietly,  tilled  a  dish  with  water,  and 
taking  it  towards  the  young  smith,  said,  in  a  soft  and  timid  voice, 

"  For  your  hands,  Agricola." 

"  Thanks,  my  little  Mayeux  ! — how  kind  you  are  !"  Then,  in  the 
most  natural  and  unaffected  accent  in  the  world,  he  added, 

"  There,  take  my  beautiful  flower  for  your  pains." 

"  What !  will  you  give  it  to  me  ?"  exclaimed  the  little  sempstress, 
in  a  voice  full  of  emotion,  whilst  a  ,hue  of  crimson  overspread  her  pale 
and  interesting  countenance  ;  "  will  you  really  give  it  to  me  ? — this 
magnificent  flower,  which  the  handsome,  good,  kind,  rich  lady  gave 
you  ?"  And  poor  Mayeux  repeated,  with  a  bewildered  air,  "  What ! 
will  you  really  give  it  to  me  ?" 

"  Why,  what  the  deuce  should  I  do  with  it?  Can  I  put  it  on  my 
breast,  or  have  it  mounted  as  a  pin?"  said  Agricola,  laughing.  "I  am 
very  sensible  of  the  charming  way  in  which  the  young  lady  thanked 
me,  and  was  delighted  at  having  found  her  little  dog ;  but  I  am  also 
delighted  to  give  you  this  flower,  particularly  as  you  admire  it  so 
much.  You  see  the  day's  work  has  been  a  good  one." 

And  as  he  said  this,  the  young  smith  (whilst  La  Mayeux  took  the 
flower,  all  trembling  with  delight,  emotion,  and  surprise)  washed  his 
hands,  all  blackened  with  iron  filings  and  smoke  of  charcoal,  that  in  a 
moment  the  clear  water  became  as  black  as  soot. 

Agricola,  looking  at  La  Mayeux  so  as  to  direct  her  attention  to 
this  metamorphosis,  said  to  her  in  a  low  and  laughing  tone, 

"  Here  's  ink  of  the  cheapest  for  us  paper-stainers  !  I  wrote  some 
lines  yesterday,  with  which  I  am  not  at  all  displeased.  I'll  read  them 
to  you." 

As  he  spoke,  Agricola  wiped  his  hands  carelessly  with  the  front  of 
his  blouse,  whilst  La  Mayeux  took  away  the  basin,  and  having  emptied 
it,  returned  it  to  the  shelf,  and  carefully  placed  her  flower  beside  it. 

"  Why  did  not  you  ask  me  for  a  towel  ?"  said  Francoise,  looking 
at  her  son  and  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "Wipe  your  hands  on  your 
blouse  I" 

"  Why,  it  is  burnt  all  day  by  the  forge  fire,  so  it  won't  be  the 
worse  to  be  a  little  moistened  at  night — eh  I  Am  I  a  naughty  boy 
again,  mother  ?  Oh  !  scold  me  if  you  dare :  I  should  like  to  see 
you——" 

Fran9oise's  reply  was  to  take  her  son's  head  in  her  hands — that 
head  so  full  of  frankness,  resolution,  and  intelligence — look  at  him  for 
a  moment  with  maternal  pride,  and  then  kiss  his  forehead  many  times 
most  affectionately. 

"  Come,  dear  boy,  and  sit  down ;  you  stand  all  day  at  the  forge, 
and  it  is  getting  late." 


MA."!' 


THE    FLOWER. 
P.  S0« 


London:  C1i.ipir.an  and  Hall.     February  1, 


AGRICOLA.  BAUDOIN.  203 

"  Well,  then,  old  lady,  take  your  arm-chair.  What !  is  our  quarrel 
to  begin  all  over  again  ?  I'm  just  as  well  on  this  stool." 

"  No,  you  are  not.  You  ought  to  rest  as  much  as  possible  after 
such  a  hard  day's  work." 

"  Oh,  you  tyrant  of  a  mother  !  Isn't  she,  my  dear  Mayeux?"  said 
Agricola,  merrily,  as  he  took  his  seat.  "  Well,  I  am  a  very  obedient 
boy,  and  I  am  always  so  comfortable  in  your  arm-chair  :  I  never  was 
seated  so  comfortable  in  my  life  since  the  day  in  July  when  I  had  a 
roll  on  the  throne  at  the  Tuileries." 

Francoise  Baudoin  stood  up  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  cut  a  slice 
of  bread  for  her  son  ;  whilst  La  Mayeux  took  the  bottle,  and  poured 
some  wine  into  his  silver  cup.  There  was  something  almost  affecting 
in  the  earnest  attention  of  these  two  excellent  hearts,  who  loved  him 
they  tended  so  dearly. 

"  What!  you  won't  sup  with  me?"  said  Agricola  to  La  Mayeux. 

"  Thank  you,  Agricola,  but  I  have  dined,"  said  the  sempstress, 
casting  down  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  only  asked  you  out  of  politeness,  for  you  have  your  whims, 
and  nothing  in  the  world  will  induce  you  to  eat  with  us.  And  there's 
that  mother,  too — she  will  dine  all  alone ;  and  in  that  way  she  deprives 
herself  very  much,  I  know." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  no  I  no  ! — it  is  better  for  my  health  to  dine 
early.  Well,  is  it  nice?" 

"  Nice  ? — why  it's  excellent !  it  is  cod  with  turnips !  and  I  doat 
on  cod.  I  ought  to  have  been  a  fisherman  at  Newfoundland." 

The  worthy  fellow,  be  it  said,  found  the  mess  any  thing  but  relish- 
ing or  satisfactory  after  a  hard  day's  work,  and  the  untempting  dish 
had  been  a  little  burnt,  moreover,  during  his  story  ;  but  he  knew  he 
should  rejoice  his  mother  if  he  dined  maigre,  so  he  affected  to  like  his 
fish  exceedingly  to  the  great  delight  of  the  mother,  who  said,  with  a 
satisfied  air, 

"  Oh  !  I  can  see  you  relish  it  my  dear  lad:  on  Friday  and  Satur- 
day next  I  will  make  you  some  more." 

"  Thankye,  thankye  mother ;  only  not  two  days  running — that  will 
over  do  me.  Well,  now  Jet  us  talk  of  what  we  will  do  to-morrow, 
on  Sunday.  Let  us  amuse  ourselves,  for  during  some  days,  mother, 
you  seem  very  sad,  and  I  can't  make  it  out.  I  think,  perhaps,  you  are 
angry  with  me  ?" 

"  Oh  I  yes,  my  dear  son,  you  are  a  model  for " 

"  Well  then,  prove  it  to  me,  and  shew  me  that  you  are  happy  by 
taking  some  amusement :  perhaps,  too,  our  little  neighbour  here  will 
do  us  the  honour  to  accompany  us,  as  she  did  last  time,"  said  Agri- 
cola,  making  a  low  bow  to  La  Mayeux. 

The  poor  girl  blushed,  looked  down,  and  her  counjpnance  took  the 
impression  of  deep  pain — but  she  made  no  answer. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  have  my  religious  duties  to  attend  to  all  day  : 
you  know  that,"  said  Francoise  to  her  son. 

"  Well,  then,  in  the  evening !  1  will  not  ask  you  to  go  to  the 
theatre,  but  they  tell  me  there  is  a  fellow  that  does  conjuring  tricks 
very  cleverly." 

"But  that  is  a  sort  of  theatre  !" 

"  Oh,  really,  mother,  that  is  being  too  particular." 


204  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  do  not  wish  to  hinder  any  one  else  from  doing 
as  they  please." 

«'  That's  true  enough — forgive  me,  mother  !  Well,  if  it  is  fine  we 
will  go  and  walk  round  the  Boulevards,  and  poor  little  Mayeux  will 
go  with  us  ;  it  is  three  months  since  she  went  out,  for  unless  she  goes 
out  with  us,  she  never  goes  out." 

"  No !  go  out  alone,  my  dear,  and  enjoy  your  Sunday,  which  you 
well  deserve  to  do." 

"  Come,  my  good  Mayeux,  and  help  me  to  persuade  my  mother." 
"  You  know,  Agricola,"  said  the  little  needlewoman,  blushing  and 
casting  down  her  eyes ;  "  you  know  I  ought  not  to  go  out  with  you 
and  your  mother." 

"  Why  not,  mademoiselle?  may  I,  without  impertinence,  ask  the 
reason  of  your  refusal?"  said  Agricola  gaily.  The  young  girl  sighed 
deeply  and  then  replied  : 

"  Because,  I  will  not  again  expose  you  to  the  chance  of  a  quarrel 
on  my  account,  Agricola." 

"  Ah !  your  pardon,"  said  the  smith,  with  an  air  of  regret,  and 
he  struck  his  brow  impatiently.  This  is  what  La  Mayeux  alluded 
tot- 
Sometimes,  but  very  seldom,  for  she  was  very  careful  even  about 
that,  the  poor  girl  had  walked  out  with  Agricola  and  his  mother,  and 
for  the  humble  sempstress  those  days  had  been  unexampled  fetes.  She 
had  watched  and  worked  many  nights,  and  fasted  many  days,  to  buy 
a  tidy  cap  and  little  shawl,  that  she  might  not  disgrace  Agricola  and 
his  mother,  and  her  five  or  six  walks  on  the  arm  of  him  whom  she 
secretly  idolised  had  been  the  only  days  of  happiness  she  had  ever 
known. 

During  their  last  walk,  a  brutal,  vulgar  fellow,  had  pushed  his 
elbow  against  her  so  violently,  that  the  poor  girl  could  not  repress  a 
shriek  of  pain,  to  which  the  coarse  wretch  replied — "  So  much  the 

worse  for  you,  you  humpbacked " 

Agricola,  like  his  father,  was  endowed  with  that  patient  endurance 
which  real  strength  and  courage  give  to  noble  hearts,  but  when  there 
was  a  gross  insult  to  chastise,  his  violence  was  irrepressible.  Irritated 
at  the  brutality  and  coarseness  of  the  fellow,  Agricola  had  dropped 
his  mother's  arm  and  hit  this  man,  who  was  about  his  own  age  and 
make,  two  as  fearful  blows  as  the  powerful  and  hard  hand  of  a  smith 
could  apply  to  the  "human  face  divine."  The  scoundrel  shewed 
fight,  but  Agricola  gave  him  so  sound  a  drubbing  in  the  presence  of 
the  approving  spectators,  that  he  ran  away,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the 
multitude. 

It  was  to  this  adventure  that  poor  La  Mayeux  adverted  when  she 
declined  going*out  with  Agricola,  in  order  that  he  might  not  get  into 
a  quarrel  on  her  account. 

We  may  imagine  the  smith's  regret  for  having  involuntarily  re- 
newed the  recollection  of  this  painful  circumstance  :  alas  I  the  more 
painful  for  La  Mayeux  than  Agricola  could  suppose,  for  she  loved  him 
devotedly,  and  had  been  the  cause  of  his  quarrel  through  her  infirmity, 
which  excited  ridicule. 

Agricola,  in  spite  of  his  strength  and  resolution,  had  the  sensibility 
of  a  child,  and  when  he  reflected  that  this  remembrance  must  be  very 


AGRICOLA  BAUDOIK.  205 

painful  to  the  poor  girl,  a  big  tear  started  in  his  eye,  and,  stretching 
out  his  arms  to  her  like  an  affectionate  brother,  he  said  to  her, 

"  Forgive  my  stupidity,  and  come  and  kiss  me." 

And  so  saying,  he  imprinted  two  hearty  kisses  on  the  pale  and 
thin  cheek  of  La  Mayeux. 

At  tliis  warm  salute,  the  lips  of  the  young  girl  turned  pale,  and  her 
poor  heart  beat  so  violently  that  she  was  compelled  to  lean  against  the 
table. 

"  Come,  come,  you  forgive  me,  don't  you?"  inquired  Agricola. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  vainly  contending  with  her  emotion ;  "and 
pray  in  turn  forgive  my  silly  weakness :  but  the  recollection  of  this 
quarrel  always  [distresses  me — I  was  so  frightened  for  you.  Suppose 
the  people  had  taken  the  part  of  that  rude  fellow  ?" 

"Oh!  I  never  in  all  my  life  was  so  frightened!"  said  Francoise, 
coming  to  La  Mayeux's  aid  without  knowing  it. 

"  Oh !  as  for  that,  mother,"  replied  Agricola,  in  order  to  give 
another  turn  to  the  conversation,  which  was  alike  disagreeable  to  him 
and  the  sempstress ;  "  You  are  a  soldier's  wife,  and  he  an  old  horse- 
grenadier  of  the  imperial  guard — oh  !  that  was  inexcusable.  Oh,  my 
dear  brave  father  !  Really,  now,  I  hardly  dare  think  of  his  arrival — it 
turns  my  senses  topsy-turvy." 

"His  arrival!"  said  Fran9oise,  sighing.     "  Heaven  grant  it." 

"  What,  mother  !  do  you  doubt?  Parbleit,  he  must  come — you 
have  had  too  many  masses  said  for  that  not  to  happen." 

"  Agricola,  my  child !"  said  Francoise,  interrupting  her  son,  and 
shaking  her  head  mournfully ;  "  do  not  talk  in  that  way,  especially 
about  your  father." 

"No,  no;  I  really  do  all  sort  of  odd  things  to-night.  I  am  really  a 
fool  or  an  ass.  Forgive  me,  mother,  dear  !  I  really  have  done  nothing 
all  night  but  beg  pardon.  You  know,  when  I  talk  my  nonsense  it 
escapes  me  in  spite  of  myself,  and  I  never  mean  to  offend  you." 

"  It  is  not  me  you  offend,  my  child." 

"  It's  all  the  same,  for  I  know  nothing  worse  than  to  offend  one's 
mother.  But  what  I  was  saying  as  to  my  father's  return,  that  will 
and  must  soon  occur." 

"  But  we  have  not  had  a  letter  from  him  these  four  months." 

"  Remember,  mother,  in  the  letter  which  he  dictated — for  he  told  us, 
with  a  soldier's  frankness,  that,  although  he  could  read  tolerably  well, 
he  was  no  great  penman  —  in  that  letter  he  told  us  not  to  be  uneasy 
about  him,  as  he  should  be  in  Paris  the  end  of  January,  and  that  three 
or  four  days  before  his  arrival  he  would  let  us  know  by  what  barrier 
he  should  arrive,  that  we  might  go  and  meet  him." 

"  True,  my  child  I  and  yet,  though  we  are  in  the  month  of 
February,  we  have  no  tidings." 

"  Oh  !  that's  the  reason  why  we  shall  see  him  soon  ;  I  could  go 
further,  and  say  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  our  good  Gabriel  was  to 
arrive  at  nearly  the  same  time.  His  last  letter  from  America  left  a 
hope  for  it.  What  happiness,  my  dear  mother,  if  all  the  family  were 
reunited ! " 

"May  Providence  hear  you,  my  child!  It  would,  indeed,  be  a 
day  of  joy  to  me !" 


206  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  And  that  day  will  soon  arrive,  mother,  be  assured.  As  to  my 
father,  I  say  '  no  news  is  good  news.' " 

"  Do*you  remember  your  father,  Agricola?"  inquired  La  Mayeux. 

"  Ma  foi  /"  to  tell  the  truth,  what  I  most  remember  was  his  great 
hairy  cap,  and  his  moustache,  which  frightened  me  so  confoundedly. 
It  was  only  the  red  riband  of  his  cross,  and  the  white  stripes  of  his 
uniform,  and  the  bright  breadth  of  his  sabre,  that  reconciled  me  to 
him  :  wasn't  it,  mother  ?  But  what  ails  you,  mother  ?  why  do  you 
weep  ?  " 

"  Alas,  poor  Baudoin  !  he  must  have  suffered  so  much  in  being 
separated  from  us  at  his  age — sixty.  Oh,  my  dear  child  !  my  heart 
is  ready  to  burst  when  I  think  that  our  misery  is  only  going  to  change 
its  aspect." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Alas  !  I  gain  next  to  nothing." 

"  Well,  and  I,  then !  Is  there  not  a  chamber  for  him  and  you,  and 
a  table  for  him  and  you?  My  dear  good  mother,  as  we  are  talking  of 
household  affairs,"  added  the  smith,  giving  to  his  voice  a- true  ex- 
pression of  tenderness,  that  he  might  not  annoy  his  mother,  "  let  me 
say  one  word.  When  my  father  returns,  and  Gabriel  too,  there  will 
be  no  occasion  to  have  any  masses  said  for  them,  nor  to  burn  any  more 
candles.  Well,  thanks  to  such  economy,  the  dear  old  daddy  will  have 
his  bottle  of  wine  every  day,  and  his  tobacco  for  his  pipe.  Then,  on 
Sundays  we  will  procure  him  a  nice  little  dinner  from  the  cook's  shop." 

Several  taps  at  the  door  interrupted  Agricola. 

"  Enter,"  said  he. 

But  instead  of  entering,  the  person  who  knocked  but  half-opened 
the  door,  and  there  was  only  to  be  seen  a  hand  and  arm  of  splendid 
green,  which  made  gestures  to  the  smith. 

"  Oh,  its  Daddy  Loriot,  the  prince  of  dyers,"  said  Agricola.  "  Enter 
without  any  ceremony,  friend  Loriot." 

"  Impossible,  my  lad ;  I  am  reeking  from  head  to  foot  with  dye. 
I  shall  stain  Madame  Framboise's  floor  all  green." 

"  So  much  the  better ;  it  will  then  look  like  a  green  field,  and  I 
adore  the  country." 

"  Joking  apart,  Agricola,  I  really  want  to  speak  to  you  directly  !" 

"What,  about  the  man  who  is  playing  spy?  Oh!  don't  annoy 
yourself.  What  can  he  have  to  concern  you  or  me  ?" 

"No;  I  think  he's  gone,  or  the  fog  is  so  thick  that  I  cannot  see 
him.  But  that's  not  it ;  come  to  me,  I  want  you  :  it  is,  really  now,  a 
very  important  matter,"  added  the  dyer,  with  a  mysterious  air, — "a 
matter,  too,  which  concerns  you  only." 

"  Me  only  ! "  said  Agricola,  rising  with  great  surprise.  "  What  can 
it  be?" 

"  Go  and  see,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Francoise. 

"I  will,  mother;  but  devil  fetch  me  if  I  can  think  what  it  all 
means." 

The  smith  then  left  the  room  quickly,  leaving  his  mother  and  La 
Mayeux  together. 


THE  RETURN.  207 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  RETURN. 

FIVE  minutes  after  he  had  left,  Agricola  returned.  His  face  was 
pale  and  agitated,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  his  hand  tremulous,  but 
yet  his  countenance  expressed  extraordinary  joy  and  tenderness. 
He  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  entrance,  as  if  his  emotion  prevented 
him  from  approaching  his  mother. 

1'runoiisr's  sight  was  so  much  enfeebled  that  she  did  not  at  first 
remark  the  change  in  her  son's  physiognomy. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  dear?"  she  inquired. 

Before  the  smith  could  reply,  La  Mayeux,  more  quicksighted,  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Agricola,  what  ails  you  ?  how  pale  you  are ! " 

"  Mother,"  said  the  artisan,  in  an  agitated  voice,  going  up  to 
Francoise,  without  replying  to  La  Mayeux  ;  "  mother,  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  which  will  very  much  surprise  you ;  promise  me  that  you 
will  contain  yourself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? — how  you  tremble  !  Look  at  me,  dear  ! — 
Yes,  indeed,  La  Mayeux  was  right — how  very  pale  you  look  !" 

"  My  dearest  mother !"  and  Agiicola,  going  on  his  knees  before 
Francoise,  took  her  two  hands  in  his ;  "  I  must — you  do  not  know- 
but—^ — " 

The  smith  could  not  finish,  tears  of  joy  stifled  his  voice. 

"  You  weep,  my  dear  boy  !  Oh !  what  causes  this  ?  you  alarm 
me,  love !" 

"  It  is  not  alarm  I  would  cause  you — quite  the  contrary,"  said 
Agricola,  wiping  his  eyes ;  "  you  will  be  delighted.  But,  once  again, 
do  not  excite  yourself, — for  too  great  joy  is  as  trying  as  too  great 
grief." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  " 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  ho  would  soon  come  ?  " 

"  Your  father  ! "  exclaimed  Fran9oise,  as  she  rose  from  the  chair. 
Her  surprise  and  emotion  were  so  excessive  that  she  placed  one  hand 
on  her  heart  to  still  its  throbbings,  and  then  she  felt  as  though  she 
would  faint 

Her  son  rose  and  supported  her.  La  Mayeux  had  until  then 
considerately  kept  out  of  the  way  during  this  scene,  which  so  com- 
pletely absorbed  Agricola  and  his  mother,  but  she  then  timidly  drew 
nigh,  thinking  she  might  be  useful,  for  Francoise's  features  altered 
more  and  more. 

"Come,  mother,  courage!"  said  the  smith;  "now  the  truth  is 
told,  you  have  only  to  rejoice  over  my  father's  return." 

"  My  poor  Baudoin  !  after  eighteen  years'  absence  I  I  cannot 
credit  it ! "  said  Francoise,  bursting  into  tears.  "  Is  it  true  ?  — 
Oh  !  can  it  be  true  ?  " 

"  It  is  so  true,  that,  if  you  will  promise  not  to  be  too  much  excited, 
I  will  tell  you  when  you  will  see  him." 

"  Soon  ? — oh  I  soon  ? — shan't  1  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  soon." 


208  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  But  when  will  he  come  ?  " 

"  He  may  be  here  from  one  moment  to  another — to-morrow—even 
to-night." 

"To-night?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mother.  I  must  tell  you  he  is  close  at  hand — he  is 
here!" 

"He  is — he  is " 

Fran9oise  could  not  finish. 

*'  Just  now  he  was  below ;  but  before  he  came  up  he  begged  the 
dyer  to  see  me,  that  I  might  prepare  you  to  see  him ;  for  the  dear 
father  was  afraid  that  so  sudden  a  surprise  might  make  you  ill." 

«0h! " 

"  And  now,"  exclaimed  the  smith,  with  an  expression  of  the 
deepest  happiness,  "  he  is  here — he  is  waiting !  Ah  !  dearest  mother, 
for  the  last  ten  minutes  I  have  hardly  been  able  to  contain  myself,  my 
heart  beats  as  though  it  would  come  through  my  side." 

And  going  to  the  door  he  opened  it 

Dagobert,  holding  Rose  and  Blanche  by  the  hand,  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

Instead  of  throwing  her  arms  round  her  husband's  neck,  Francoise 
•  fell  on  her  knees  and  prayed. 

Lifting  up  her  soul  to  God,  she  thanked  Him  with  the  profoundest 
gratitude  for  having  heard  her  vows,  her  prayers,  and  thus  responded 
to  her  offerings. 

For  a  second  the  actors  in  this  scene  remained  silent  and  motionless. 

Agricola,  through  a  feeling  of  respect  and  delicacy  which  struggled 
violently  against  the  impetuous  ardour  of  his  tenderness,  did  not  throw 
himself  on  Dagobert's  neck,  but  waited,  with  ill-restrained  impatience, 
until  his  mother  had  concluded  her  pious  prayer. 

The  soldier  felt  the  same  sensation  as  the  smith,  but  both  repressed 
their  feelings,  and  they  exchanged  looks  expressive  of  their  love  for 
each  other,  and  their  affection  for  the  worthy  woman  who,  in  the 
excess  of  her  pious  zeal,  forgot  a  little  too  much  the  creature  for  the 
Creator. 

Rose  and  Blanche,  overcome  and  deeply  moved,  looked  with  interest 
on  the  kneeling  woman ;  whilst  La  Mayeux,  silently  shedding  tears  of 
joy  at  the  thought  of  Agricola's  happiness,  retired  into  a  dark  corner 
of  the  room,  feeling  that  she  Avas  an  intruder,  and  must  be  overlooked 
in  the  midst  of  this  family  reunion. 

Francoise  rose,  and  made  a  step  towards  her  husband,  who  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

In  a  moment  there  was  a  deep  silence. 

Dagobert  and  Francoise  did  not  utter  a  word,  only  broken  sighs, 
sobs,  and  deep  breathings  of  joy  were  heard.  When  the  old  couple 
lifted  up  their  heads,  their  countenances  were  calm,  joyous,  and  serene  ; 
for  true  expressions  of  simple  and  pure  feelings  never  leave  behind  them 
marks  of  excitement  and  violent  agitation. 

"  My  children."  said  the  soldier,  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion,  pointing 
out  Francoise  to  tne  girls,  who,  when  her  first  emotion  was  over,  had 
looked  at  them  with  astonishment ;  "  this  is  my  good  and  excellent 
wife,  and  she  will  be  to  General  Simon's  daughters  what  I  myself  have 
been." 


THE  RETUKN.  I'Ol) 

"Then,  madam,  you  will  treat  us  as  if  we  were  your  own  children," 
said  Rose,  going  with  her  sister  up  to  Francoise. 

"  General  Simon's  daughters  I "  exclaimed  Dagobert's  wife,  more 
and  more  surprised. 

"  Yes,  my  good  Franchise,  they  are.  I  have  brought  them  from 
a  long  distance,  not  without  trouble ;  but  I  will  tell  you  all  that 
another  time." 

"Poor  little  dears  I  they  look  like  two  angels,"  said  Fnu^oise, 
regarding  the  orphans  with  equal  interest  and  admiration. 

"  And  now  for  us  two,"  said  Dagobert,  turning  to  his  son. 

"  Yes,  now,"  said  Agricola. 

It  is  impossible  to  paint  the  excessive  delight  of  Dagobert  and  his 
son,  the  tenderness  and  energy  of  their  embraces,  yet  the  soldier  broke 
in  upon  them  every  now  and  then  to  look  Agricola  in  the  face,  leaning 
his  hands  on  the  broad  shoulders  of  the  youthful  smith,  that  he  might 
with  more  ease  gaze  on  his  manly  and  frank  countenance,  and  his  well- 
formed  and  powerful  frame ;  after  which  he  again  strained  him  to  his 
bosom,  saying,  "  What  a  fine  lad  I  what  a  well-grown,  good-looking 
fellow  it  is  I " 

La  Mayeux,  still  remaining  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  participated 
in  the  happiness  of  Agricola,  but  feared  that  her  person,  though  not 
yet  observed,  might  be  considered  intrusive.  She  wished  to  retire 
without  being  observed,  but  that  was  impossible.  Dagobert  and  his 
son  concealed  nearly  the  whole  of  the  door,  and  she  therefore  re- 
mained perforce,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  lovely  faces  of  Rose  and 
Blanche.  She  had  never  in  her  life  seen  anything  more  lovely, 
and  the  extraordinary  resemblance  between  the  two  sisters  increased 
her  surprise,  whilst  their  mourning  attire  seemed  to  bespeak  thai  they 
were  poor ;  and  thus,  involuntarily,  La  Mayeux,  felt  more  sympathy 
for  them. 

"  Dear  girls  !  they  are  cold — their  little  hands  must  be  frozen  ;  and 
unfortunately  the  tire  in  the  stove  has  gone  out,"  said  Fran9oisc. 

She  then  tried  to  warm  in  her  own  the  hands  of  the  orphans, 
whilst  Dagobert  and  his  son  were  abandoning  themselves  to  the  out- 
pouring of  tenderness  so  long  restrained. 

The  moment  when  Francoise  had  eaid  that  the  fire  in  the  stove 
was  extinct,  La  Mayeux,  anxious  to  make  herself  useful  as  an  excuse 
for  her  presence,  which  might  be  thought  ill-timed,  ran  to  the  little 
cupboard  in  which  the  charcoal  and  wood  were  kept,  and  taking  out 
some  small  bits  knelt  down  before  the  stove,  and,  by  the  aid  of  some 
sparks  still  retained  in  the  ashes,  lighted  up  the  fire,  which  soon  drew 
up  and  sparkled,  and  then  filling  a  coffee-pot  with  water  she  placed  it 
over  the  fire,  that  it  might  be  useful  to  make  some  warm  drink  for  the 
young  girls. 

La  Mayeux  employed  herself  in  this  with  so  little  noise  and  so 
quickly,  and  there  was  so  little  attention  paid  to  her  in  the  midst  of 
the  display  of  feeling  which  was  exhibited,  that  Francoise,  fully  occu- 
pied with  Rose  and  Blanche,  did  not  remark  the  heating  of  the  stove 
until  she  felt  its  warmth,  and  soon  after  heard  the  bubbling  of  the 
boiling  water  in  the  coffee-pot. 

This  phenomenon  of  a  fire  which  lighted  of  itself,  did  not  at  the 
moment  strike  Dagobert's  wife,  who  was  so  completely  absorbed  by 
14  p 


210  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  thoughts  of  how  she  should  lodge  the  two  young  girls,  for,  as 
we  know,  the  soldier  had  not  announced  their  intended  arrival. 

All  at  once  three  or  four  loud  barks  were  heard  outside  the  door. 

"  Ah  I  it  is  my  old  Kill-joy,"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  opening  the 
door  for  his  dog :  "  he  wishes,  of  course,  to  be  introduced  to  the 
family." 

Kill-joy  jumped  joyfully  into  the  room,  and  very  speedily  made 
himself  at  home.  A  fter  having  rubbed  his  long  muzzle  in  Dagobert's 
hand,  he  went  round  to  Rose,  Blanche,  Francoise,  and  Agricola; 
then  finding  that  but  little  attention  was  paid  to  him,  he  sniffed  out 
La  Mayeux,  who  kept  herself  still  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  acting 
on  the  popular  axiom  of  "  My  friend' s  friends  are  my  friends"  Kill-joy 
licked  the  hands  of  the  young  sempstress,  whom  all  else  had  forgotten. 

By  a  curious  feeling,  this  caress  moved  La  Mayeux  even  to  tears, 
and  she  several  times  passed  her  long,  thin,  and  white  hand  down  the 
intelligent  head  of  the  dog ;  then  thinking  that  she  could  no  longer  be 
useful,  as  she  had  done  all  the  small  service  it  was  in  her  power  to 
render,  she  took  the  beautiful  flower  which  Agricola  had  given  to  her, 
opened  the  door  softly,  and  went  out  so  stealthily  that  no  one  observed 
her  departure. 

After  the  expressions  of  mutual  affection,  Dagobert,  his  wife  and 
son,  bethought  them  of  the  actual  realities  of  life. 

"  Poor  Francoise ! "  said  the  soldier,  looking  towards  Rose  and 
Blanche,  "  you  did  not  expect  such  an  agreeable  surprise?" 

"  I  only  regret,  my  dear  husband,"  replied  Francoise,  "  that  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  will  have  no  better  apartment  than  this 
humble  chamber ;  for,  with  Agricola's  garret — — " 

"^That  makes  up  our  hotel,  and  there  are  certainly  some  more 
splendid ;  but  comfort  yourself,  the  poor  children  are  accustomed  not 
to  be  very  particular.  To-morrow  I  will  go  arm-in-arm  with  my  son, 
and  I'll  venture  to  say  that  it  will  not  be  he  who  will  \valk  most  up- 
right and  proudly  of  the  two.  We  will  go  and  find  the  father  of 
General  Simon  at  M.  Hardy's  factory,  in  order  to  talk  matters  over." 

"  To-morrow,  father  ! "  said  Agricola  to  Dagobert ;  "  you  will  not 
find  M.  Hardy  or  Marshal  Simon's  father  at  the  manufactory." 

"  What  do  you  say,  ray  boy  ?"  said  Dagobert ;  "  the  Marshal  ?  " 

"  Certainly;  since  1830,  the  friends  of  General  Simon  have 
obtained  the  recognition  of  the  title  and  rank  which  the  Emperor  had 
conferred  on  him  after  the  battle  of  Ligny." 

"Really?"  cried  Dagobert  with  emotion,  "though  that  ought 
not  to  surprise  me — for  after  all  it  is  but  justice;  and  when  the  Emperor 
said  a  thing,  the  least  that  could  be  done  was  to  say  it  after  him.  But 
it  is  well — 1  like  it.  It  goes  to  my  heart — it  moves  me,"  Then 
addressing  the  two  young  maidens,  "  My  loves,  you  hear !  on  your 
arrival  at  Paris,  you  are  daughters  of  a  duke  and  marshal ;  although 
to  see  you  in  this  humble  crib  one  would  hardly  credit  it,  my  poor 
little  duchesses :  but  patience,  and  all  will  be  well  yet.  Old  Simon 
must  have  been  delighted,  my  boy,  to  learn  that  his  son  was  restored 
to  his  rank." 

"  Oh  !  he  said  he  would  sacrifice  all  ranks  and  all  titles  to  see  his 
son  again  ;  for  it  was  during  the  general's  absence  that  his  friends  soli- 
cited and  obtained  this  justice  for  him.  Moreover,  the  marshal  is 


THE  RETURN.  211 

« 

expected  every  hour,  for  his  last  letters  from  India  lead  us  to  expect 
his  immediate  arrival." 

At  this  Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other,  their  eyes  filling 
with  large  tears. 

"Thank  Heaven  I  I  and  the  dear  girls  look  anxiously  for  his 
return.  But  why  should  we  not  find  M.  Hardy  or  old  M.  Simon  at 
the  factory  to-morrow?" 

"  Why,  they  left  ten  days  ago,  to  visit  and  get  particulars  of  an 
English  manufactory  established  in  the  south ;  but  they  will  return  in 
a  day  or  two." 

"  Diable  !  that  annoys  me.  I  relied  on  seeing  the  general's  father, 
to  talk  over  some  very  important  matters.  But  I  suppose  you  know 
where  to  write  to  him;  so  let  him  know  to-morrow,  my  dear  fellow, 
that  his  granddaughters  have  arrived  in  Paris.  In  the  mean  time, 
my  dears,"  he  added,  turning  to  Rose  and  Blanche,  "  my  good  wife 
will  share  her  bed  with  you ;  and  as  in  war  times  we  must  put  up  with 
war  fare,  why,  my  darling  pets,  you  will  be  no  worse  off  here  than  you 
were  on  your  journey." 

"  You  know  we  shall  always  be  well  off  near  you  and  madame," 
said  Rose. 

"  And  then  we  can  think  of  nothing  else  but  the  delight  of  being 
at  last  in  Paris,  since  it  is  here  that  we  shall  so  soon  find  our  dear 
father,"  added  Blanche. 

"It  is  in  that  hope  that  we  will  all  take  patience,"  said  Dagobert; 
"  but  then,  after  what  you  expected  to  see  in  Paris,  you  must  be 
much  astonished,  my  children.  Why,  up  to  this  time,  you  have  not 
found  it  the  city  paved  with  gold,  which  you  dreamt  of.  But  that 
can't  be  helped — patience,  patience  I  You  will  find  that  Paris  is  not 
such  a  bad  place  as  it  may  seem  to  be." 

"  And  then,"  added  Agricola,  gaily,  "  I  am  sure  that  the  young 
ladies  will  find,  when  General  Simon  does  arrive,  that  Paris  will  be  a 
real  golden  city." 

"You  are  right,  M.  Agricola,"  said  Rose,  smiling:  "you  have 
guessed  exactly !" 

'  What,  ma'amselle,  do  you  know  my  name  ?" 
'  To  be  sure  we  do,  M.  Agricola.     We  often  spoke  of  you  to 
Dagobert,  and  since  with  Gabriel,"  added  Blanche. 

'  Gabriel !"  exclaimed  both  mother  and  son,  with  surprise. 
'Yes,  Gabriel !"  replied  Dagobert,  making  a  significant  sign  to 
the  two  orphans.  Bless  you,  we  have  as  much  to  tell  you  as  would 
require  a  fortnight,  at  least,  to  complete  the  tale ;  and,  among  other 
wonderful  things,  you  will  hear  how  and  where  we  met  Gabriel.  All 
that  I  shall  now  say  about  him  is,  that  in  his  way,  and  for  one  of  his 
calling,  he  deserves  to  be  the  brother  of  this  dear  boy  (I  cannot  help 
cullitu/  you  boy,  my  dear  son,  because  as  such  I  have  always  tliought 
of  you — so  don't  take  it  amiss),  and  that  they  are  just  fit  for  each 
other.  Good,  excellent  wife  !"  continued  Dagobert,  with  emotion,  "it 
is  and  was  a  noble,  a  brave  act,  to  take  this  poor,  forlorn,  deserted 
child,  and,  spite  of  your  poverty,  to  bring  it  up  as  tenderly  as  your 
own." 

"  Husband,  so  trifling  a  service  scarcely  merits  praise." 


212  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

• 

••  Ah  !  but  I  think  it  docs  ;  and  I  shall  set  a  greater  value  on  you 
than  ever,  for  your  motherly  kindness  and  courageous  conduct  towards 
the  forlorn  boy.  However,  he  will  be  here  himself,  to  thank  and  bless 
you,  to-morrow  morning." 

"Is  my  dear  brother  then  returned?"  cried  the  young  smith. 
"  Who  will  say,  after  all  this,  that  there  are  not  certain  days  marked 
out  for  happiness  ?  And  where  did  you  fall  in  with  our  dear 
Gabriel?" 

"  Why  don't  you  call  me  fatfier  every  time  you  speak  to  me?" 
interrupted  Dagobert,  whose  eyes  and  ears  seemed  to  revel  in  the 
delight  of  beholding  and  listening  to  each  word  that  fell  from  his 
newly  recovered  treasure.  "  You  owe  me  a  long  arrear,  of  eighteen 
years'  standing,  and  I  expect  that  dear  name  will  be  repeated  till  you 
have  paid  off  the  debt;  unless,  indeed,  you  are  ashamed  of  your 
weather-beaten  old  parent  since  you  have  taken  to  poetry  and  making 
songs.  Ah  I  you  see  I  know  all  about  you,  though  I  have  been 
away." 

"  My  dear,  dear  father,  how  could  you  for  a  moment  fancy  such  a 
thing  ?" 

"  There,  my  noble  fellow !  cheer  up — I  was  trying  a  joke  with 
you.  No !  I  know  at  a  glance  you  are  not  the  paltry  coward  to  be 
ashamed  of  an  old  father,  though  he  does  happen  to  be  all  the  worse 
for  wear.  But  as  for  Gabriel,  I  will  tell  you  just  now  where  and  in 
what  manner  we  fell  in  with  him ;  for  if  you  expect  to  get  any  sleep 
to-night,  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken.  You  shall  give  me  a  share 
of  your  room,  and  we  will  gossip  on  till  morning.  Kill-joy  will  find  a 
resting-place,  as  usual,  outside  the  door  of  the  apartment  where  these 
dear  children  sleep,  and " 

"  Dear  husband  I"  interrupted  Francoise,  "  I  am  sadly  forgetful, 
but  the  joyful  surprise  of  the  last  hour  has  quite  overpowered  me. 
Surely  these  young  ladies  and  yourself  will  take  some  supper :  Agricola 
will  fetch  something  for  you  from  the  traiteurs  directly." 

"  What  say  you,  my  children  ?"  inquired  Dagobert ;  "  do  you  feel 
disposed  to  eat  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  thank  you,  kind  Dagobert !  we  are  too  happy  to  be 
hungry." 

"  At  least,"  said  Francoise,  "  have  a  little  warm  wine  and  water, 
just  to  warm  you,  my  dear  young  ladies  I  It  is,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  all 
I  have  to  offer  you." 

"  To  be  sure  they  will  accept  your  good  offer,  my  dear  wife," 
answered  Dagobert  for  them  :  "  the  poor  things  must  be  very  tired, 
and  had  better  retire  to  rest !  While  you  prepare  their  bed,  I  will 
depart  with  my  boy  here,  and  lodge  myself  in  his  chamber  till  to- 
morrow morning,  when  these  young  ladies  will  probably  have  arisen  ; 
and  then  I  will  come  and  have  a  talk  with  you,  by  way  of  giving  poor 
Agricola  a  little  respite." 

At  this  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door. 

"  It  is  that  good  little  Mayeux  come  to  see  if  we  want  any  thing," 
said  Agricola. 

"  I  fancied  she  was  here  when  your  father  entered  the  room,"  said 
Francoise. 


THE  RETURN.  213 

"  And  so  she  was,  dear  mother,  but  the  poor  girl  was  so  fearful  of 
being  in  the  way  that  she  retired  without  your  perceiving  her." 

"  That  knock  was  too  loud  for  her  gentle  tap,  Agricola.  See  then 
who  it  is,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Fran9oise. 

Before  the  smith  had  time  to  reach  the  door  it  opened,  and  a  well- 
dressed  man  of  respectable  look  advanced  several  steps  into  the 
chamber,  casting  a  rapid  glance  around,  and  finally  fixing  his  eyes 
with  earnest  gaze  on  Rose  and  Blanche. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Agricola,  hastily  advancing  towards  him, 
"  if  I  remind  you  that  it  is  usual  for  persons  knocking  at  doors  to  wait 
until  they  are  told  to  enter.  What  is  your  pleasure  ? — whom  do  you 
M  ant  ?". 

'*  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  answered  the  stranger  with  extreme 
politeness,  and  speaking  very  slowly  and  deliberately,  evidently  with  a 
view  to  prolong  his  stay.  "  I  really  beg  a  thousand  pardons  !  I  am 
quite  vexed  at  my  inadvertence.  I  feel  so  confused — that,  really " 

"Well,  well,  sir!"  interrupted  Agricola,  impatiently;  "that  is 
sufficient,  and  more  than  sufficient :  have  the  goodness  now  to  state 
your  business  here." 

"May  I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  whether  a  deformed  young 
sempstress,  by  name  Mademoiselle  Soliveau,  does  not  live  here?" 

"  No,  sir! — up  stairs  !  "  said  Agricola. 

"Then,  upon  my  word,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  man  of  politeness, 
commencing  a  series  of  profound  bows,  "  I  am  thoroughly  ashamed 
of  having  committed  so  great  a  mistake ;  the  truth  was  I  believed 
myself  at  the  door  of  the  young  person  I  mentioned,  and  whom  I 
wished  to  see  respecting  some  Avork  required  by  a  lady  of  high 
respectability." 

"  Itis somewhat  late,"  returned  Agricola,  much  surprised,  "to  come 
upon  such  an  errand.  However,  Mademoiselle  Soliveau  is  well  known 
to  us,  and  you  can  see  her  to-morrow — she  has  now  retired  to  rest." 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  left  but  to  reiterate  my  excuses,  and  to  beg 
you  will  pardon." 

"That  will  do,  sir!"  cried  Agricola,  advancing  closer  towards  the 
door. 

"  May  I  venture  to  hope  tliat  madamc  here,  and  these  young  ladies 
with  the  gentleman  I  see  opposite,  will  also  kindly  accept  my  apologies 
for  thus  unintentionally  intruding  on  them;  and  permit  me  to  assure 
them " 

"Really,  sir,"  interrupted  Agricola,  "  if  you  go  on  thus,  you  will 
require  even  greater  indulgence  to  overlook  the  length  and  tedious- 
ness  of  your  excuses,  which  seem  tome  as  though  you  never  purposed 
bringing  them  to  a  close.  Good  night,  sir!  it  is  past  our  hour  of 
receiving  visitors." 

Agricola's  rebuke,  which  brought  a  smile  on  the  countenances  of 
the  two  sisters,  pleased  Dagobcrt  excessively.  He  stroked  down  his 
moustache  with  the  utmost  complacency,  and  whispered  to  his  wife, 
"  That  is  a  clever  boy  of  ours  !  I  like  his  spirit — not  afraid  of  any- 
thing! He  does  not  astonish  you  as  much  as  he  does  me,  because 
you  have  been  always  used  to  him ;  but  he  is  a  fine  fellow,  I  must  say, 
though  he  is  my  son." 

JJuring  these  few  remarks,  the  ceremonious  stranger,  after  casting 


214  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

a  searching  glance  at  the  orphans,  Dagobert,  and  Agricola,  quitted  the 
room. 

Directly  he  had  departed,  Francoise,  having  drawn  one  mattrass 
from  the  bed  and  laid  it  on  the  ground  for  herself,  began  arranging 
her  own  bed  for  the  reception  of  the  sisters ;  placing  her  finest  and 
whitest  sheets  for  their  use,  and  superintending  their  preparations  for 
the  night  with  almost  maternal  solicitude. 

Dagobert  and  Agricola,  meanwhile,  wended  their  way  towards  the 
garret  occupied  by  the  latter. 

At  the  instant  when  the  young  smith,  bearing  a  light  in  his  hand, 
was  preceding  his  father  up  the  stairs,  just  as  he  passed  the  chamber 
occupied  by  La  Mayeux,  the  young  girl  spoke  hastily  from  the  dark 
corner  in  which  she  had  ensconced  herself,  and  said,  "Agricola,  a 
serious  danger  threatens  you  ! !  I  must  speak  to  you  !"  These  words 
had  been  uttered  so  rapidly,  and  in  so  low  a  tone,  that  Dagobert 
heard  them  not ;  but,  observing  Agricola  start  suddenly,  and  an 
evident  tremor  pass  over  him,  the  old  soldier  called  out : 

"  What,  now,  my  boy  !    what  is  the  matter  with  j'ou  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  father !"  answered  the  young  smith,  turning  quickly 
towards  him.  "  I  stopped,  because  I  feared  you  could  not  see  your 
way  up  these  strange  stairs." 

"See  !"  exclaimed  the  delighted  old  man:  "why,  bless  you,  my 
boy,  I  seem  to  have  changed  my  old  limbs  for  those  of  a  lad  of  fifteen, 
and  to  have  borrowed  his  eyes  also."  And  the  veteran,  not  remarking 
the  astonishment  painted  on  the  countenance  of  Agricola,  took  his  arm, 
and  the  two  entered  the  small  attic  in  which  they  were  to  pass  the 
night. 


Very  few  minutes  after  the  man  of  polished  manners  had  returned 
fiom  his  visit  of  inquiry  to  Dagobert's  wife,  touching  the  abode  of  La 
Mayeux,  he  was  hastening  towards  the  extremity  of  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche. 

He  quickened  his  steps  as  he  approached  a  hackney-coach  drawn 
up  in  the  little  square  of  the  cloister  Saint-Merry. 

Concealed  in  this  fiacre,  his  whole  person  enveloped  in  a  large 
cloak,  was  M.  Rodin. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he,  in  an  interrogative  tone. 

"  All  right!"  answered  the  other;  "the  two  young  girls,  and  the 
man  with  the  large  grey  moustache,  have  all  three  gone  into 
Francoise  Baudoin's  house.  I  followed  them  ;  but,  before  I  knocked 
at  the  door  of  their  apartment,  I  listened  for  several  minutes  to  what 
they  were  saying.  I  found  out  that  the  two  girls  were  to  share  the 
bed  of  Fraucoise  Baudoin,  while  the  old  fellow  with  the  grizzled 
beard  was  to  partake  the  chamber  of  the  young  smith." 

"Very  well !"  said  Rodin. 

"I  did  not  like,"  continued  the  polite  speaker,  "to  insist  upon 
seeing  the  humpbacked  sempstress  about  the  Bacchante  Queen  to- 
night ;  besides,  it  will  serve  as  a  pretext  for  my  calling  again  to- 
morrow, to  ascertain  what  effect  has  been  produced  by  the  letter  she 
would  receive  by  the  evening's  post,  respecting  the  young  smith." 

"  Make  a  point  of  that.     Now,  then,  you  will  proceed  at  once  (late 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX.  215 

as  it  may  be)  with  a  message  from  me  to  the  confessor  of  Francoise 
Baudoin ;  desire  him  to  come  to  me  without  delay.  Say  he  will 
find  me  in  the  street  Milieu-des-Ursins,  and  do  you  accompany 
him.  Stay,  I  may  not  have  returned,  but  bid  him  await  me  should  I 
be  absent ;  and  tell  him,  further,  to  use  all  speed,  as  business  of  vital 
importance  induces  me  to  summon  him  so  late." 

"  All  shall   be  faithfully  performed,"   replied  the  polished   man, 
bowing  low  to  Rodin,  whose  fiacre  drove  rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

AGRICOLA  AND  LA   MAYEUX. 

AN  hour  after  these  scenes,  a  most  entire  silence  reigned  in  the 
house  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche — a  flickering  light,  visible  through  two 
squares  of  a  glass  door,  shewed  that  La  Mayeux  was  still  watching ; 
for  this  dark  hole,  without  air,  without  light,  only  admitted  the  day- 
light by  this  door,  which  opened  in  a  narrow  and  obscure  passage  made 
in  the  rafters. 

A  miserable  bed,  a  table,  an  old  trunk,  and  a  chair,  so  filled  this 
chilly  abode,  that  two  persons  could  not  sit  down  in  it,  unless  one  were 
seated  on  the  bed. 

The  magnificent  flower  which  Agricola  had  given  La  Mayeux 
had  been  carefully  placed  in  a  glass  of  water  on  a  table  loaded 
with  linen,  and  shed  its  sweet  purfume,  and  expanded  its  purple  chalice, 
in  the  centre  of  this  squalid  closet,  with  its  damp  and  grey  plaster 
walls,  which  a  miserable  candle  feebly  lighted. 

La  Mayeux,  sitting  dressed  on  her  bed,  with  her  features  full  of 
grief,  her  eyes  overflowing  with  tears,  was  leaning  with  one  hand  on 
the  pillow  of  her  couch,  inclining  her  head  towards  the  door,  listening 
with  intense  anxiety,  hoping  every  instant  to  hear  the  step  of  Agricola. 

The  young  creature's  heart  beat  violently  ;  her  face,  usually  so 
wan,  was  now  slightly  coloured,  so  deep  was  her  emotion.  Sometimes 
she  cast  her  eyes  with  affright  on  a  letter  which  she  held  in  her  hand — 
a  letter  which  had  arrived  by  post  this  evening,  and  had  been  placed  on 
her  table  by  the  dyer  (who  was  also  porter  to  the  house),  whilst  La 
Mayeux  had  been  present  at  the  interview  between  Dagobert  and  his 
family. 

After  some  time  the  young  girl  heard  a  door  close  to  her  own  open 
very  gently. 

"Here  he  is,  at  last!"  she  exclaimed;  and  Agricola  entered  the 
room. 

"  I  waited  until  my  father  was  asleep,"  said  the  young  smith  in  a 
low  voice,  his  countenance  betraying  curiosity  rather  than  uneasiness ; 
"  but  what  is  the  matter,  my  good  little  Mayeux  ?  How  unhappy 
you  look  !  what  makes  you  weep  ?  What  is  the  danger  about  which 
you  have  to  speak  to  me  ?  " 

"  Here,  read,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  in  a  trembling  voice,  and 
handing  to  him  hastily  an  open  letter. 


216  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Agricola  hold  it  towards  the  light  and  read  on  as  follows : 

A  person  who  cannot  disclose  his  name,  but  is  fully  aware  of  the 
fraternal  interest  which  you  take  in  Agricola  Baudoin,  warns  you  tJiat 
this  young  and  worthy  artisan  will  in  all  probability  be  arrested 
to-morrow. 

"  Me  I "  cried  Agricola,  looking  at  the  girl  with  an  air  of  extreme 
astonishment;  "  what  can  this  mean  ?" 

"  Read  on ! "  said  the  sempstress  hastily,  clasping  her  hands. 

Agricola  resumed,  hardly  able  to  believe  his  eyes. 

His  song  of  t/ie  "  FREE  WORKMEN"  has  been  made  a  matter  of 
criminal  accusation.  Many  copies  of  it  were  found  amongst  the  papers 
of  a  secret  society,  whose  leaders  have  been  put  in  prison  after  the  detec- 
tion of  the  conspiracy  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires. 

"  Alas  I "  said  the  little  workwoman,  bursting  into  tears,  "  now  I 
understand  it  all.  That  man  who  was  prying  about  this  evening,  as 
the  dyer  said,  was  no  doubt  watching  for  your  arrival." 

"Oh,  nonsense!  the  accusation  is  absurd,"  said  Agricola;  "do 
not  vex  yourself  about  it,  my  good  Mayeux.  I  never  bother  myself 
about  politics :  my  verses  only  prove  my  love  of  my  fellow-creatures, 
and  if  any  copies  of  them  were  found  amongst  the  papers  of  a  secret 
society,  it  is  no  fault  of  mine." 

And  he  threw  the  letter  on  the  table  disdainfully. 

"  Read  on,  I  pray  you  read  on,"  said  La  Mayeux  to  him. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  request  it." 

And  Agricola  continued. 

A  warrant  to  arrest  him  is  issued  ;  his  innocence  no  doubt  will  be 
made  evident  sooner  or  later,  but  he  will  do  well  in  the  mean  time  imme- 
diately to  get  out  of  tJie  way  ;  that  he  may  avoid  an  imprisonment  which 
may  last  for  two  or  three  months,  and  which  would  be  a  dreadful  blow 
to  his  mother,  of  w/iom  he  is  the  sole  support. 

A  sincere  Friend,  who  must  remain  unknouni. 

After  a  moment's  silence  the  smith  shrugged  his  shoulders,  his 
countenance  became  composed,  and  he  said  with  a  laugh  to  the 
sempstress, 

"  Courage,  my  good  little  Mayeux- — this  is  a  mere  hoax ;  it  is  an 
attempt  to  make  us  April  fools  by  anticipation." 

"  Agricola,  for  the  love  of  heaven,"  said  the  sempstress  in  a  be- 
seeching tone,  "  do  not  treat  this  so  lightly.  Believe  in  my  presenti- 
ments— attend  to  this  warning." 

"  Again,  my  poor  dear  girl,  I  tell  you,  it  is  more  than  two  months 
since  my  song  of  the  '  Workmen'  was  printed,  and  it  is  not  in  the 
least  political ;  besides,  they  would  not  have  waited  until  now  if  they 
meant  to  prosecute  me." 

"  But  only  reflect  on  all  the  circumstances.  It  is  not  two  days 
since  the  plot  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires  was  discovered ;  and  if  your 
verses  were  unknown  until  then,  having  been  now  seized  with  the 
persons  arrested  for  this  conspiracy,  why  nothing  more  is  requisite  to 
implicate  you." 

"Implicate  me  I  verses,  in  which  I  boast  of  the  love  of  labour  and 
charity  !  Really  Justice  must  be  blind  and  proud.  We  must  then  give 
every  dog  a  stick  to  feel  his  way  with." 

"  Agricola,"  said  the  young  girl  in  despair  at  seeing  the  smith 


AGUICOLA     KKAUI.NU     THE     LK  TTEK. 


London:   C'ha|inmii  an<l  Hall.     April  I.  1-1"' 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEUX.  217 

jocose  at  such  a  moment,  "  I  beseech  you,  hear  me :  no  doubt  in  your 
verses  you  uphold  the  holy  duty  of  labour,  but  you  lament  in  painful 
lines  the  unjust  lot  of  the  poor  artisans  who  are  hopelessly  sentenced 
to  the  miseries  of  life ;  you  maintain  the  holy  brotherhood,  but  your 
good  and  noble  heart  is  indignant  with  the  selfish  and  the  wicked.  In 
fact  you  advocate  with  all  your  energy  the  enfranchisement  of  work- 
people less  fortunate  than  yourself,  who  have  not  such  employers  as 
the  generous  M.  Hardy.  Well,  tell  me,  Agricola,  in  these  troublous 
times  is  there  more  wanting  to  implicate  you,  if  several  copies  of  your 
songs  have  been  seized,  together  with  the  individuals  arrested  ?  " 

At  these  sensible  and  excited  words  of  this  worthy  creature,  who 
drew  her  reasoning  from  her  heart,  Agricola  was  moved,  and  began  to 
contemplate  the  warning  more  seriously. 

Seeing  him  thus  serious,  La  Mayeux  continued  : 

"  And  then  remember  Remi,  your  fellow-workman  !" 

"  Remi  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  letter  of  his,  although  one  apparently  of  no  importance, 
was  found  on  a  person  arrested  last  year  on  a  charge  of  conspiracy, 
and  he  was  put  in  prison  for  a  month." 

"  True,  Mayeux ;  but  the  injustice  of  the  charge  was  speedily  re- 
cognised, and  he  was  liberated." 

"  After  having  passed  a  month  in  prison  ;  and  that  is  what  you  are 
very  sensibly  advised  to  avoid.  Agricola,  pray  think  of  this — a  month 
in  prison — and  your  mother." 

These  words  of  La  Mayeux  made  a  deep  impression  on  Agricola, 
who  took  up  the  letter  and  read  it  again  attentively. 

"  And  the  man  who  was  watching  all  the  evening  about  the  house," 
continued  the  young  girl ;  "  I  cannot  help  associating  the  two  circum- 
stances. Alas !  what  a  blow  for  your  father  and  your  poor  mother, 
who  can  no  longer  earn  anything.  Are  not  you  now  their  only 
reliever?  Only  think  what  would  become  of  them  if  they  were 
deprived  of  your  labour  I  " 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  a  heavy  blow,"  said  Agricola,  throwing  the 
letter  on  the  table.  "  What  you  say  about  Remi  is  perfectly  just ;  he 
was  as  innocent  as  I  am — an  error  of  justice,  no  doubt  involuntarily, 
but  not  the  less  cruel.  But  even  now  let  me  say,  they  do  not  arrest 
a  man  without  hearing  him." 

"  But  they  arrest  first  and  hear  afterwards,"  said  La  Mayeux  with 
bitterness ;  "  then  after  a  month  or  two  they  restore  him  to  liberty,  and 
if  he  have  a  wife  and  children  who  have  no  dependence  but  his  daily 
toil,  what  are  they  to  do  whilst  their  only  support  is  in  gaol  ?  They 
hunger — they  thirst — and  they  weep." 

At  these  simple  and  touching  words  of  La  Mayeux,  Agricola  was 
deeply  moved. 

"  A  month  without  labour!"  he  said,  with  a  sad  and  thoughtful  air, 
"  and  my  mother  and  father,  and  the  two  young  girls  who  now  form 
part  of  our  family  until  the  Marshal  Simon  or  his  father  arrive  in 
Paris.  Oh,  you  are  right !  and  in,  spite  of  myself,  this  thought  frightens 
me." 

"  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux  suddenly,  "  if  you  were  to  consult 
M.  Hardy — he  is  so  kind,  and  his  character  stands  so  high,  so  much 


218  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

esteemed,  that  in  offering  his  word  for  you  they  would  perhaps  not 
prosecute  you  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately  M.  Hardy  is  not  in  Paris,  he  is  travelling  with 
Marshal  Simon's  father." 

Then,  after  a  brief  silence,  Agricola  added,  as  if  desirous  to  over- 
come his  apprehensions, 

"  But  no,  I  cannot  believe  this  letter ;  after  all,  it  is  best  to 
await  the  result  of  events.  I  shall  at  least  have  the  chance  of  proving 
my  innocence  at  a  first  examination  ;  for  you  know,  Mayeux,  whether  I 
was  in  prison  or  obliged  to  conceal  myself,  my  labour  would  not  aid 
my  family." 

"  Alas  !  that  is  true,"  said  the  poor  girl ;  "  what  can  we  do  ?  what 
is  best  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  father,"  said  Agricola,  "  if  this  misfortune  were  to 
happen  to-morrow,  what  a  waking  for  him  who  went  to  sleep  so  full  of 
happiness ! " 

And  the  smith  concealed  his  forehead  in  his  hands. 

Unfortunately  the  fears  of  La  Mayeux  were  by  no  means  ex- 
aggerated, for  it  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  year  1832,  before  and 
after  the  conspiracy  of  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires,  a  great  many  arrests 
took  place  amongst  the  working  classes,  in  consequence  of  a  violent 
re-action  against  democratic  principles. 

Suddenly  La  Mayeux  broke  the  silence  which  had  lasted  for  some 
minutes,  a  deep  colour  suffused  her  features,  which  was  a  token  of 
constraint,  pain,  and  hope  mingled. 

"  Agricola,  you  are  saved  ! "  she  said. 

"How?" 

"  The  young  lady,  so  handsome  and  so  kind,  who,  when  she  gave 
you  this  flower  (and  she  pointed  to  it)  did  so  with  a  delicacy  which 
soothed  your  feelings  ;  she  must  have  a  generous  heart,  go  and  see  her." 

At  these  words,  which  she  seemed  to  pronounce  by  making  a 
desperate  effort  over  herself,  two  large  tears  rolled  down  the  cheeks  of 
La  Mayeux. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  experienced  a  feeling  of  acute 
jealousy ;  another  woman  was  so  happy  as  to  be  able  to  aid  him  she 
idolised — she,  a  poor  helpless,  powerless,  wretched  creature  ! 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  said  Agricola  with  surprise  ;  "  what  could 
the  young  lady  do  in  such  a  matter?" 

"  Did  she  not  say,  Remember  my  name,  and,  under  any  circum- 
stance, address  yourself  to  me  ?" 

«  She  did." 

"  This  young  lady,  in  her  high  condition,  must  have  powerful 
friends  who  could  protect  and  defend  you  ;  go  and  see  her  to-morrow 
morning;  tell  her  all  without  any  reserve,  and  ask  her  aid  and  pro- 
tection." • 

"  But,  my  dear  Mayeux,  what  do  you  suppose  she  can  do  ?  " 

"  Listen.  I  remember  hearing  my  father  say  once,  that  he  had 
saved  one  of  his  friends  from  going  to  prison  by  giving  security  for 
him  ;  it  will  be  easy  to  convince  this  young  lady  of  your  innocence, 
and  she  will  be  your  security,  and  then  I  should  think  you  would  have 
nothing  more  to  fear," 


AGRICOLA  AND  LA  MAYEtJX.  219 

"  Ah,  my  poor  girl ;  ask  such  a  service  of  any  body  !  that  is  not 
to  be  done." 

"  Believe  me,  Agricola,"  replied  La  Mayeux  sorrowfully,  "  I  would 
not  advise  you  to  ask  anything  which  could  lower  you  in  the  eyes  of 
any  person,  and  particularly  in  the  eyes  of  this  lady.  You  do  not  ask 
her  for  money,  but  only  to  become  security  in  order  that  you  may 
continue  your  labour,  and  that  your  family  may  not  be  deprived  of  its 
sole  support.  Believe  me,  Agricola,  such  a  request  is  only  noble  and 
worthy  on  your  part;  the  heart  of  this  lady  is  generous,  she  will 
understand  you,  and  the  security  will  be  nothing  for  her,  whilst  it  will 
be  every  thing  for  you.  The  lives  of  all  your  family  depend  upon  it." 

"  You  are  right,  good  Mayeux,"  said  Agricola  with  deep  sorrow ; 
"  and  perhaps  my  best  step  is  to  ask  this  request.  If  this  young  lady 
consents  to  render  me  this  service,  and  a  security  will  really  keep  me 
out  of  prison,  I  shall  be  prepared  for  whatever  turns  up.  But,  no,  no," 
added  the  smith,  rising,  "  I  shall  never  dare  to  address  this  young 
lady.  What  right  have  I  to  do  so  ?  What  is  the  small  service  I  have 
rendered  to  her  in  comparison  with  that  which  I  ask  of  her?" 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  Agricola,  that  a  generous  heart  measures  the 
services  it  can  render  by  those  which  it  has  received  ?  Believe  me  the 
heart  is  not  so  selfish  ;  I  am  but  a  poor  creature  who  cannot  be  com- 
pared with  any  body — I  am  nothing — I  can  only  be  nothing.  Well ! 
I  am  still  sure — yes,  Agricola,  I  am  sure  that  this  young  lady,  so  far 
above  me,  will  feel  as  I  do  under  these  circumstances.  Yes,  as  I  do, 
so  will  she  comprehend  your  cruel  position,  and  will  do  with  joy, 
pleasure,  and  gratitude,  what  I  should  do ;  if  alas !  I  could  do  any- 
thing but  only  devote  myself  uselessly " 

In  spite  of  herself,  La  Mayeux  pronounced  these  last  words  with  so 
deep  and  touching  an  expression — there  was  something  so  affecting  in 
the  comparison,  which  this  unfortunate,  obscure,  despised,  miserable, 
and  decrepit  creature  made  between  herself  and  Adrienne  do  Cardoville, 
the  resplendent  type  of  all  that  was  young,  beautiful,  and  wealthy, 
that  Agricola  was  moved  to  tears,  and,  taking  one  of  La  Mayeux's 
hands,  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion, 

"  How  good  you  are  !  how  full  of  noble  sentiment,  good  sense,  and 
real  delicacy  ! " 

"  Unfortunately  I  can  only  advise  you " 

"  And  your  advice  shall  be  followed,  my  excellent  Mayeux  ;  you 
have  the  most  exalted  mind  I  know ;  and  you  persuade  me  to  this 
attempt  by  making  me  believe  that  the  heart  of  Mademoiselle  Adrienne 
de  Cardoville  is  like  your  own." 

At  this  sincere  compliment  and  simple  comparison,  La  Mayeux 
forgot  nearly  all  she  had  just  suffered — so  delightful,  so  consolatory 
were  her  feelings.  If,  indeed,  for  certain  human  beings  fatally  destined 
to  suffering,  there  are  griefs  unknown  to  the  world  beside,  there  are 
also  for  them,  humble  and  gentle  joys  unknown  to  others :  the  least 
word  of  soft  affection  which  elevates  them  in  their  own  eyes  is  so 
grateful,  so  delightful  to  the  poor  souls  habitually  endured  to  disdain, 
hardships,  and,  above  all,  to  the  deep  desolation  of  their  own  distrust. 

"  Well,  then,  that  is  settled ;  and  you  will  go  to-morrow  morning 
to  the  young  lady — won't  you?"  inquired  La  Mayeux,  whilst  fresh 
hope  sprang  up  within  her  breast.  "  At  day-break  I  shall  go  down 


220  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  watch  at  the  street  door  to  see  if  I  observe  any  suspicious  person, 
so  that  I  may  warn  you." 

"  Good  and  excellent  girl ! "  said  Agricola,  more  and  more  moved. 

"  You  must  try  and  go  before  your  father  awakes ;  the  young  lady 
lives  in  a  lonely  quarter,  and  going  there  will  be  almost  to  conceal 
yourself." 

"  I  think  I  hear  my  father's  voice,"  said  Agricola  suddenly. 

The  room  of  La  Mayeux  was  so  near  the  attic  of  the  smith,  that  he 
and  the  sempstress  listening  heard  Dagobert,  who  was  in  the  dark, 
say, 

"  Agricola,  are  you  asleep,  my  dear  boy  ?  I  have  had  my  first 
nap  and  my  tongue  wants  to  be  wagging." 

"Go  quickly,  Agricola,"  said  La . Mayeux,  "your  absence  will 
make  him  uneasy ;  and  be  sure  you  do  not  go  out  in  the  morning 
before  I  have  seen  you  to  say  if  anything  has  happened  to  cause 
suspicion." 

"Agricola!  what,  ain't  you  there?"  said  Dagobert  in  a  louder 
tone." 

"  Here  I  am,  father,"  said  the  smith,  leaving  the  closet  of  La 
Mayeux,  and  going  into  his  father's  garret. 

"  I  had  been  to  close  the  shutters  of  the  loft  which  had  been 
opened  by  the  wind  ;  I  thought  the  noise  might  awaken  you." 

"  Thanks,  my  brave  boy;  but  it  was  not  the  noise  that  roused 
me,"  said  Dagobert  gently:  "it  was  a  strong  desire  for  talking  with 
you.  Ah,  my  dear  lad,  it  is  quite  a  fever  that  devours  an  old  fool 
of  a  father,  who  has  not  seen  his  son  for  eighteen  years." 

"  Will  you  have  a  light  father  ?" 

"  No,  no,  that's  a  luxury  ;  we  can  talk  in  the  dark,  and  then  I  shall 
have  a  new  pleasure  in  seeing  you  to-morrow  morning  at  day-break : 
it  will  be  as  though  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time,  or  second  time." 

The  door  of  Agricola's  chamber  closed,  and  La  Mayeux  heard  no 
more. 

The  poor  girl  threw  herself  with  her  clothes  on  upon  her  bed,  and 
did  not  close  an  eye  all  night,  waiting  with  agony  for  daylight,  that 
she  might  watch  for  Agricola's  safety. 

However,  in  spite  of  her  anxieties  for  the  morrow,  she  sometimes  fell 
into  melancholy  reveries,  comparing  the  conversation  she  had  had  in 
the  silence  of  the  night  with  the  man  she  loved  in  secret,  with  what 
might  have  been  that  conversation  if  she  were  beautifully  attractive — if 
she  were  loved  as  she  did  love,  with  chaste  and  deep  devotion.  But 
then  reflecting  that  she  could  never  have  the  heavenly  charm  of  re- 
ciprocal love,  she  found  her  consolation  in  the  hope  of  having  rendered 
service  to  Agricola. 

At  day-break  La  Mayeux  rose  gently,  and,  descending  the  stair- 
case noiselessly,  went  to  watch  that  no  harm  threatened  Agricola. 


THE  MORNING.  221 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  MORNING. 

THE  night,  which  had  been  damp  and  foggy,  gave  place  to  a  clear 
though  cold  frosty  morning ;  and  looking  upwards  through  the  small 
skylight  which  opened  from  Agricola's  garret,  and  afforded  the  only 
means  of  ventilating  the  apartment,  a  tiny  patch  of  blue  sky  could  be 
discerned. 

The  chamber  occupied  by  the  young  smith  was  scarcely  superior 
to  that  of  La  Mayeux.  Over  the  small  deal  table,  on  which  he  wrote 
his  poetical  inspirations,  hung  a  small  portrait  of  Beranger,  the  people's 
idol  and  favourite  poet — in  whose  hearts  he  will  ever  live,  as  the 
immortal  writer  whose  rare  and  wonderful  genius  celebrated  their 
glories  and  bewailed  their  misfortunes,  while  he  informed  their  minds 
and  enlightened  their  understanding. 

Although  the  day  had  hardly  dawned,  Dagobert  and  his  son  were 
already  risen ;  the  latter  had  sufficient  self-command  to  conceal  his 
uneasiness  from  his  parent,  for  his  had  been  a  restless  pillow,  and  the 
more  he  reflected  the  more  serious  grew  his  fears. 

The  recent  discovery  of  the  rash  enterprise  in  the  Rue  des 
Prouvaires  had  led  to  a  considerable  number  of  arrests,  and  the 
finding  several  copies  of  his  song  of  the  "Free  Workmen"  in  the 
house  of  one  of  the  principals  in  the  conspiracy,  might,  indeed,  tem- 
porarily compromise  the  safety  of  the  young  smith.  However,  as  we 
before  said,  these  mental  reflections  were  carefully  hidden  from  his 
father,  who  was  far  from  suspecting  the  distress  of  mind  under  which 
his  "  dear  boy  "  laboured. 

Seated  by  the  side  of  their  small  bed,  the  soldier,  who  at  the  first 
glimmer  of  light  had  arisen  and  shaved  and  dressed  himself  with 
military  precision,  sat  with  Agricola,  whose  hands  he  affectionately 
held  in  his  own,  while  from  time  to  time  his  eye  wandered  over  the 
beloved  feature's  of  his  newly  restored  son,  on  whose  fine  manly  figure 
he  gazed  with  intense  delight  and  gratified  pride. 

"Ah,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  my  boy  !"  said  he,  at  length;  "you 
are  smiling  to  see  an  old  fellow  like  me  so  proud  of  his  son  ! — but 
last  night  I  could  not  half  see  you  as  I  do  now  by  the  help  of 
daylight.  Now  I  can  observe  every  feature.  I  can  see  the  exact 
colour  of  your  eyes — your  hair — and,  what  an  old  fool  I  am! — do  you 
know  I  like  to  see  you  with  those  fine  moustaches?  What  a  capital 
grenadier  or  horse-soldier  you  would  make !  Tell  me,  my  dear  son, 
did  you  never  wish  to  be  a  soldier  ?  " 

"  Think  of  my  poor  mother  if  I  had  I " 

"Right,  quite  right;  and,  besides,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that 
soldiering  days  are  gone  by,  and  the  only  use  now  for  old  fellows  like, 
myself,  is  to  be  placed  in  the  chimney-corner  like  an  old  rusty  carbine: 
we  have  done  our  work,  I  expect." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Agricola,  "  but  if  your  time  has  gone  by,  they 
were  days  of  heroism  and  glory  while  they  lasted ;"  and  then  looking 


222  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

tenderly  and  proudly  at  his  father,  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  exultation, 
"  for  me,  'tis  glory  enough  to  feel  and  know  myself  your  son  I !" 

"  As  for  that,  my  dear  boy, "  replied  the  gratified  old  man,  "  I 
can  but  say  that,  if  an  old  father's  love  is  worth  being  proud  of,  then  I 
give  you  leave  to  boast  as  you  will  ;  and  if  I  feel  such  tenderness  for 
you  now,  what  will  it  be  when  we  have  lived  longer  together.  For  my 
part  I  feel  like  a  hungry,  half-starved  wretch,  who  has  been  kept  a 
length  of  time  without  food  :  a  little  will  not  do  to  satisfy  the  cravings 
of  hunger,  and  it  must  be  a  hearty  meal,  indeed,  that  will  disgust  him. 
Ah  !  I  shall  tire  you  out,  my  boy,  I  fear.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  I 
shall  have  you  to  look  at,  as  I  do  now,  every  morning  and  evening, 
and  every  day — the  very  idea  seems  to  overpower  and  bewilder  me — 
1  cannot  understand  so  mucli  happiness  being  in  store  for  me." 

These  words  made  Agricola  start,  and  a  thrill  of  anguish  pervaded 
his  frame  as  he  thought  of  the  threatened  separation,  which  would  so 
cruelly  overthrow  the  fond  anticipations  of  his  father. 

"And  you  are  quite  happy,"  continued,  the  old  man,  "are  you 
not,  under  so  kind  a  master  as  M.  Hardy  ?  " 

"  Indeed  you  may  say  so,"  answered  the  son ;  "  a  more  just, 
generous,  or  upright  man,  does  not  exist.  Ah,  did  you  but  know  the 
wonders  he  has  effected  in  his  manufactory  I  Compared  with  other 
establishments  it  is  a  perfect  heaven  upon  earth  I" 

«  Really  I" 

"  You  will  be  able  to  see  and  judge  for  yourself;  the  very  counte- 
nances of  his  workpeople  exhibit  joy  and  sincere  affection  wherever  his 
name  is  mentioned,  and  all  revere  and  love  him  as  the  best  of  masters 
and  most  generous  of  friends." 

"  Why,  your  M.  Hardy  must  be  a  sort  of  magician  ! " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  father,  a  magician  powerful  enough  to  render 
labour  attractive,  and  a  matter  even  of  pleasure  to  those  engaged  in  it, 
and  that  by  kind  treatment  and  a  liberal  remuneration.  In  the  first 
place,  he  gives  us  all  a  share  in  the  profits  of  our  work,  so  as  to  create  an 
interest  in  its  success  ;  then  he  has  built  large  and  commodious  build- 
ings, in  which,  at  a  less  cost  than  they  could  obtain  the  most  humble 
lodgings,  the  workpeople  are  accommodated  with  large,  airy,  cheerful 
apartments,  and  where,  besides,  they  can  have  all  the  benefits  of 
constant  companionship  and  mutual  society :  but  you  will  see — you  will 
see ! " 

"  Paris  may  well  be  called  the  city  of  wonders  I  Well,  thank  my 
stars,  I  have  once  „  more  returned  to  it,  and  never,  as  I  trust,  to  leave 
you  or  your  good  mother  again  I" 

"I  hope,  dear  father,"  answered  Agricola,  suppressing  a  sigh, 
"  that  we  shall  not  be  called  upon  to  part  I  It  will  be  the  greatest 
possible  delight,  both  to  my  mother  and  myself,  to  have  you  always 
with  us,  and  to  make  you  forget  the  dangers  you  have  passed,  as  well 
as  all  you  have  suffered." 

"  Suffered  !  Not  I — not  a  bit ;  or,  if  I  have,  devil  take  me  if  I 
have  not  forgotten  all  about  it  in  this  joyful  meeting.  Look  me  well 
in  the  face,  and  tell  me  if  you  can  perceive  the  least  mark  of  suffering. 
I  tell  you  that,  from  the  instant  of  my  putting  my  foot  in  this  house, 
all  my  troubles  flew  away,  and  I  felt  myself  a  young  man  again.  Ah! 
you  shall  see  me  walk  by  and  by.  I  will  wager  a  trifle,  now,  I  shall 


THE  MORNING.  223 

leave  you  behind.  Mind  you  dress  yourself  in  all  your  best,  and  when 
we  go  out  together — eh,  my  boy  ? — won't  the  people  stare  at  us  I  I'll 
be  bound  when  they  look  at  your  black  moustache,  and  then  sec  my 
grey  one,  they  will  say,  '  There  goes  father  and  son  I'  Now  I  think  of 
it,  let  us  just  plan  out  our  day.  First,  I  want  you  to  write  to  the  father 
of  General  Simon,  telling  him  of  the  arrival  of  his  grandchildren  in 
Paris,  and  that  he  will  be  so  good  as  to  hasten  hither  without  delay ; 
his  presence  being  required  upon  very  important  business  relative  to 
the  children.  While  you  are  writing,  I  will  step  down  stairs  and  say  a 
few  words  to  my  old  woman,  and  just  see  how  my  two  little  dears  are, 
and  wish  them  good  morning.  We  will  have  a  bit  of  something  to  eat 
together,  and  then  your  mother  will  go  to  mass  I  suppose,  for  I  see  she 
has  all  her  old  fancy  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Well,  if  it  amuses  her, 
what  matters  ?  And  while  she  is  at  church,  we  will  take  a  little  turn 
out  together." 

"  Father,"  said  Agricola,  with  some  embarrassment,  "  this  morning, 
unfortunately,  I  cannot  go  out  with  you  !" 

"  Not  go  out  with  me  I  why,  it  is  Sunday,  you  know  !" 

"  I  am  aware  of  it,  dear  father,"  said  Agricola,  hesitating;  "  but  I 
promised  to  go  all  the  morning  to  the  manufactory,  to  complete  a 
piece  of  work  which  is  wanted  in  a  hurry,  and  were  I  to  fail,  it  would 
be  a  considerable  loss  as  well  as  inconvenience  to  M.  Hardy.  I  shall 
soon  be  at  liberty  again." 

"  Well,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "  I  had  promised 
myself,  my  boy,  to  have  ray  first  walk  in  Paris  with  you  this  morning. 
But  it  cannot  be  helped — you  must  mind  your  work,  because  you  have 
so  good  a  master,  and,  also,  because  it  gives  you  the  means  of  main- 
taining your  mother.  Yet  it  is  vexatious — devilishly  vexatious  ;  but 
stay  !  see  how  soon  happiness  spoils  us,  and  makes  us  selfish  and 
unjust.  Look  at  me  now,  grumbling  away  like  an  old  churl,  just 
because  my  promised  pleasure  is  put  off  for  a  few  hours,  without 
recollecting  that  for  eighteen  years  I  have  been  hoping  for  the  hap- 
piness of  beholding  you,  without  once  venturing  to  be  sure  1  should 
ever  have  my  desire  gratified.  Bah  !  I  am  nothing  better  than  an  old 
fool !  So  let  us  say  no  more  about  it,  but  '•vive  la  joic,'  and  my 
clearest  son,  Agricola ;"  and,  as  though  to  indemnify  himself  for  his 
disappointment,  the  old  soldier  gaily  and  affectionately  embraced  his 
son. 

Poor  Agricola  shuddered,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  father's  caresses, 
lest  he  should  see  the  door  open  and  La  Maycux's  apprehensions 
be  realised. 

"  I  am  better  now,"  said  Dagobert,  cheerily ;  "  come,  let  us  talk  a 
little  about  affairs  of  business.  Do  you  know  where  1  shall  be  able  to 
find  the  addresses  of  all  the  notaries  in  Paris  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not;  but  nothing  is  more  easy." 

"  I  want  to  know,  because,  by  order  of  the  mother  of  the  two 
children  I  brought  with  me,  I  sent  by  post  from  Russia  some  highly 
important  papers,  which  were  directed  to  some  notary  in  Paris,  to 
whom  I  was  to  have  gone  directly  I  reached  that  city.  For  fear  of 
forgetting  it,  I  had  carefully  written  down  the  name  and  address  in 
my  pocket-book,  but  it  was  stolen  from  me  on  the  road ;  and  all  I  can 


224  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

do  to  recollect  this  man's  name,  I  cannot  knock  it  into  my  head :  still 
I  fancy,  if  I  see  it  in  any  printed  list,  I  should  know  it  again." 

Two  distinct  taps  at  the  garret-door  made  Agricola  start  from  his 
seat  with  a  beating  heart ;  for  involuntarily  he  thought  of  the  warrant 
for  his  apprehension,  and  fully  believed  the  persons  had  arrived  to  put 
it  in  force. 

Dagobert,  who  had  quickly  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  noise  proceeded,  did  not  observe  the  alarm  depicted  on 
his  son's  countenance,  but  exclaimed,  in  a  firm  voice, 

"  Come  in !" 

The  door  opened,  and  Gabriel,  attired  in  black  cassock  and  round 
hat,  appeared  before  the  astonished  pair. 

To  recognise  his  adopted  brother  at  a  glance — to  rush  towards 
and  clasp  him  in  a  fond,  brotherly  embrace,  was  the  work  of  an 
instant. 

'My  dear  brother!" 

'  Agricola !" 

'  Gabriel  I" 

'  After  so  long  an  absence  I" 

'  You  have  come  at  last  I" 

Were  the  only  words  exchanged  between  the  missionary  and  the 
young  smith,  and  they  held  each  other  in  a  close  embrace. 

Dagobert,  both  affected  and  deeply  charmed  with  this  unaffected 
display  of  brotherly  affection,  was  obliged  to  dry  the  large  drops  which 
gathered  in  his  eyes.  There  was,  indeed,  something  indescribably 
touching  in  the  tenderness  of  these  two  young  men,  whose  hearts  so 
closely  resembled  each  other,  while  their  outward  forms  were  so 
entirely  different :  the  fine  manly  countenance  of  Agricola  presenting 
a  powerful  contrast  to  the  extreme  delicacy  and  almost  angelic  sweet- 
ness of  Gabriel's  physiognomy. 

"  I  learned  of  your  approaching  arrival  by  my  father,"  said  the 
young  smith,  at  length,  to  his  adopted  brother,  "  and  expected  to  see 
you  from  one  minute  to  the  other ;  and  yet  my  happiness  is  increased 
a  hundred  fold  I" 

"And  my  dear  mother  !"  said  Gabriel,  affectionately  pressing  the 
hands  of  Dagobert,  "did  you  find  her  quite  well?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  son  !  and  she  will  grow  stronger  every  day  now  we 
are  all  once  more  united  around  her.  There  is  nothing  like  joy  for 
improving  the  health." 

Then,  addressing  Agricola,  who,  forgetful  of  his  fears  of  arrest, 
was  regarding  the  missionary  with  ineffable  affection,  he  said, 

"  Who  would  think,  now,  that  under  this  delicate  exterior,  and  a 
countenance  gentle  as  that  of  a  young  girl,  our  Gabriel  conceals  the 
heart  and  courage  of  a  lion  ?  for  I  told  you  with  what  intrepidity  he 
saved  the  lives  of  General  Simon's  daughters,  and  then  strove  to  pre- 
serve mine  likewise." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Gabriel  !*  cried  the  young  smith,  who  for 
several  minutes  had  been  attentively  surveying  the  missionary,  "  what 
is  the  matter  with  your  forehead  ?" 

Gabriel,  who  had  thrown  aside  his  hat,  was  so  placed  that  the  light 
of  the  small  window  fell  directly  on  his  pale  mournful  countenance,  so 


._#'  -'-.—----    - 


THE    MKETI.VG    OK    AGK1COLA    AND    (JAUKIEL. 


:.'.ii.l..n:  Chapman  and  Hull.     \!;«n-h  I.  i-l •-. 


THE  MORNING.  225 

as  to  completely  display  the  circular  scar  which  surrounded  his  fore- 
head from  one  temple  to  the  other. 

In  the  midst  of  the  various  emotions  and  rapid  events  which  had 
followed  the  shipwreck,  Dagobert  had  not,  during  his  short  conference 
with  Gabriel  in  the  Chateau  dc  Cardoville,  observed  the  cicatrice 
which  encircled  the  brows  of  the  young  missionary ;  but  now,  having 
his  attention  directed  to  it  by  Agricola,  he  exclaimed,  with  surprise, 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  most  singular  mark  on  your 
forehead  ?" 

••  And  look,  dear  father,  he  has  deep  scars  on  his  hands  also !" 
exclaimed  the  young  smith,  seizing  one  of  the  hands  which  the  mis- 
sionary had  extended  towards  him,  as  though  to  calm  his  uneasiness. 

"  Gabriel,  my  excellent  boy  !  what  does  all  this  signify?  and  who 
has  inflicted  these  fearful  wounds  ?"  Then,  taking  the  missionary's 
hand,  he  in  his  turn  examined  it  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur, 
saying, 

"  When  I  was  in  Spain,  one  of  my  comrades  was  taken  down  from 
a  cross  by  the  road-side,  where  the  monks  had  first  nailed  him,  and 
then  left  him  to  perish  of  hunger  and  thirst.  Ever  after  he  bore  on 
his  hands  marks  precisely  similar  to  these." 

"  My  father  is  right !"  cried  Agricola,  deeply  affected.  "  Yes,  it  is 
easy  now  to  see  the  cause  of  these  scars :  my  dear  brother's  hands 
have  been  pierced  also  !" 

"  Do  not  heed  such  trifles,"  said  Gabriel,  while  a  look  of  unaffected 
modesty  suffused  his  countenance.  "  I  was  sent  upon  a  mission  to  the 
savages  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  who  not  only  refused  to  hear  me,  but 
first  crucified  me,  and  then  commenced  scalping  me,  when  a  merciful 
Providence  saved  me  from  their  murderous  hands." 

"Poor  boy !"  exclaimed  Uagobert;  "  were  you  unarmed,  or  was 
your  escort  insufficient  to  protect  you  ?" 

"  We  are  not  allowed  to  carry  arms,"  said  Gabriel,  with  a  gentle 
smile,  "and  we  never  have  any  escort." 

"  Well,  then,  your  comrades — the  party  who  were  sent  along  witli 
you — did  they  make  no  effort  to  defend  you?"  cried  Agricola,  impe- 
tuously. 

"  I  was  quite  alone,  dear  brother." 

"  Alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  with  merely  a  guide." 

"What!"  cried  Dagobert,  unable  to  comprehend  or  believe  what 
he  heard — "  do  you  really  mean  to  say  that,  alone  and  unarmed,  you 
ventured  into  the  midst  of  this  land  of  savages  ?" 

"  This  is  sublime  devotion,  indeed  I"  murmured  Agricola. 

"  True  religion,"  replied  Gabriel,  with  simple  earnestness,  "  cannot 
be  imposed  by  force :  't  is  by  gentle  persuasion  alone  these  poor  bar- 
barians could  be  brought  to  embrace  the  truths  and  heavenly  doctrines 
of  our  holy  creed,  which  enjoineth  charity  above  all  things." 

"  But  when  persuasion  fails "  interrupted  Agricola,  hastily. 

"  Then,  my  brother,  't  is  our  willing  duty  to  die,  if  needs  be,  in 
support  of  the  faith  we  profess — pitying  and  praying  for  those  who 
refuse  to  hear  us ;  for  ours  is  a  religion  of  love  and  peace." 

A  momentary  silence  prevailed  after  this  simple  and  touching 
roply. 

15  Q 


226  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Dagobert  was  too  courageous  himself  not  to  fully  comprehend  the 
calm  yet  devoted  heroism  of  his  adopted  son,  whom,  as  well  as  Agricola, 
he  gazed  on  with  the  most  intense  admiration,  mingled  with  respect. 

Gabriel,  without  in  the  slightest  degree  affecting  an  excessive  share 
of  modesty,  seemed  upfeignedly  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  impression 
he  had  caused ;  and,  addressing  himself  to  the  soldier,  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  uneasiness, 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  father  ?  " 

"The  matter?"  cried  the  old  man;  "  why,  it  is  just  this,  that 
after  having  for  thirty  years  fancied  myself  as  brave  as  any  man,  I 
have  found  my  master — my  superior — and  here  he  stands,"  taking 
Gabriel's  hand  affectionately  in  his  own. 

"  But  what  have  I  done,  to  deserve  such  praise?" 

"  I  tell  you  what,  my  noble  fellow  1"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  pointing 
enthusiastically  to  the  wounds  on  Gabriel's  temples — "  those  scars  are 
as  glorious  and  honourable — nay,  more  so — to  you  than  the  wounds 
such  as  we,  who  are  fighters  by  profession,  pride  ourselves  on  having 
received  in  battle." 

"  My  father  is  right,"  added  Agricola,  with  animated  tones :  "  ah  ! 
such  courage,  charity,  and  resignation  as  this  would  indeed  make  me 
love  and  venerate  you,  as  priest,  almost  as  my  mother  does." 

"  Nay,"  said  Gabriel,  in  painful  confusion,  "  let  me  beseech  you 
not  to  overrate  my  humble  doings  thus !  Do  not  praise  me  more  than 
I  deserve." 

"  Praise  you  ! "  returned  Dagobert ;  "  why,  just  look  here  :  when  I 
was  sent  to  face  the  enemy,  did  I  go  alone?  was  not  my  captain 
there,  to  witness  my  doings  ?  and  were  not  my  comrades  sharers  of 
my  danger  ?  And  then,  if  my  courage  failed  me,  had  I  not  my  pride 
and  vanity  to  spur  me  on?  without  mentioning  the  inspiring  battle- 
cry — the  smell  of  the  powder — the  sound  of  the  trumpets — the  roar  of 
the  cannon — with  my  horse  neighing,  prancing,  and  curvetting  under 
me,  as  though  the  devil  stung  him.  And,  best  of  all,  did  I  not  know 
the  Emperor  himself  was  there?  and  that,  in  return  for  having  my 
skin  well  riddled  with  bullets,  he  would  bestow  on  me  a  bit  of  riband 
or  a  stripe  of  gold  lace,  to  make  a  plaster  I  Ay,  to  be  sure,  I  knew 
all  this  well  enough  ;  and  so  I  got  the  credit  of  being  a  brave  sort  of 
fellow.  But  you,  my  fine  lad,  who  face  all  manner  of  dangers  alone 
and  unobserved,  are  a  thousand  times  bolder  and  braver  than  myself, 
when  you  go,  unarmed  and  unseen  by  your  commander,  to  encounter 
enemies  a  hundred  times  more  formidable  and  ferocious  than  any  we 
ever  meet  in  the  open  battle-field,  where  we  fight  away  in  squadrons, 
protected  by  a  shower  of  howitzers  and  cannon-balls." 

"  My  excellent  father ! "  repeated  the  young  smith,  "  how  worthy 
of  you  it  is  thus  to  do  justice  to  the  courage  of  another  ! " 

"  Ah,  dear  Agricola ! "  cried  Gabriel,  "  our  kind  parent's  indulgent 
view  of  my  conduct  makes  him  exaggerate  the  little  good  I  have  been 
able  to  do,  and  which  is,  after  all,  so  natural." 

"  Natural  I "  quickly  responded  the  old  .soldier:  "yes,  for  gallant 
fellows  such  as  you  are  it  may  be  natural ;  but  let  me  tell  you  the 
breed  is  a  rare  one — seldom  more  than  one  at  a  time  I " 

"  Rare,  indeed  I "  added  Agricola ;  "  for  courage  such  as  my 
brother  has  evinced  is  the  most  difficult  sort  to  meet  with.  What ! 


THE  MORNING.  227 

with  the  anticipation  of  an  almost  certain  death,  you  departed  alone, 
nanght  in  your  hand  but  a  crucifix  to  excuse  and  preserve  you,  to 
preach  charity  and  brotherly  love  to  savages ;  who,  in  return  for  this 
act  of  self-devotion,  seize  you,  torture  you,  and  threaten  you  with  a 
lingering  death  I  and  all  this  you  bear  without  one  angry  or  resentful 
feeling,  and  patiently  await  your  end  with  a  smile  and  blessing  for 
your  murderers  on  your  lips !  and  all  this  bodily  anguish  you  endure 
in  the  thick  shade  of  their  pathless  woods — alone,  unknown,  unseen — 
with  no  other  hope,  should  you  even  escape  from  the  hands  of  your 
tormenters,  than  to  hide  your  deep  scars  beneath  the  humble  robe  of 
a  priest !  My  father  is  right — seek  not  to  disown  his  just  praise ;  for 
even  I  must  declare  you  stand  here  as  brave  a  man  as  he  himself!" 

"  And  besides,"  resumed  Dagobert,  "  the  poor  boy  is  all  the  while 
working  for  *JACK  NOBODY,'  as  one  may  say ;  for  as  you  observe,  my 
son,  his  courage  and  devotion,  with  a  body  scarred  and  seamed  all 
over,  will  never  change  his  black  gown  into  a  bishop's  robe." 

"  Nay,"  said  Gabriel,  with  a  smile  of  angelic  sweetness,  "  I  am  not 
so  disinterested  as  I  appear :  should  I  prove  worthy  of  it,  a  mighty 
recompense  awaits  me  on  high." 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  my  dear  boy,  I  won't  pretend  to  talk  of  matters 
I  don't  understand  ;  but  what  I  will  say  is,  that  my  old  cross  would  be 
as  well  placed  on  your  cassock  as  on  my  uniform." 

"  But  such  recompenses  are  never  bestowed  on  humble  priests 
like  Gabriel,"  said^the  smith;  "and  yet,  if  you  only  knew,  my  dear 
father,  what  brave  and  virtuous  spirits  may  be  found  among  the  por- 
tion of  the  priesthood  called  insultingly  the  '  lower  clergy,'  what  hid- 
den merit  and  devoted  zeal  for  their  fellow-creatures  may  be  met  with 
among  the  obscure  and  humble  cures  of  the  villages  of  France,  treated 
both  harshly  and  unfeelingly  by  their  bishops,  who  impose  on  them  a 
pitiless  yoke,  from  which  there  is  no  escape  !  Yet  these  poor  priests 
are  workmen,  like  ourselves,  whose  emancipation  all  generous  hearts 
should  unite  in  demanding.  Sons  of  the  people  as  we  are,  they  require 
the  same  redress,  the  same  justice,  we  poor  mechanics  and  artisans  so 
loudly  call  for.  Am  I  not  right,  Gabriel?  You  will  not  contradict 
me,  my  dear  brother — you,  whose  highest  and  most  ambitious  earthly 
wish  was  to  have  been  appointed  cure  to  a  little  village  flock,  because, 
as  you  justly  observed,  you  know  so  well  how  much  good  a  man  so 
placed  might  do." 

"My  desire  is  still  the  same,"  replied  Gabriel,  sorrowfully;  "but, 

unhappily ."     Then,   as   though  seeking   to  escape  from   painful 

thoughts,  and  desirous  of  changing  the  conversation,  he  said  to  Dago- 
bert, "  Let  me  beseech  you  to  do  yourself  more  justice  than  to  depre- 
ciate your  own  courage  by  exalting  that  of  another.  Your  courage 
must  be  great — very  great ;  for  to  look  on  a  field  of  battle  after  the 
conflict  is  over,  and  to  behold  the  carnage  and  slaughter  of  one's 
brethren,  must  be  a  trying  sight  for  a  generous  heart  like  yours,  my 
father.  Heaven  be  praised  I  if  we  fall  by  man's  hand,  at  least  we 
slay  not ! " 

As  the  missionary  uttered  these  words,  the  soldier  suddenly  sprang 
up,  and  gazed  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  This  is  most  singular  I "  exclaimed  he. 

"  What  is  singular,  my  father  ?  " 


228  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Why,  it  struck  me  deeply  to  hear  Gabriel  make  that  last  remark  : 
it  was  so  precisely  what  I  used  to  feel  after  an  action — I  mean  as  I 
got  older." 

Then,  after  a  short  silence,  Dagobert  added,  in  a  grave  and  sor- 
rowful tone,  by  no  means  habitual  to  him, 

"  Yes,  what  Gabriel  has  just  remarked  exactly  expresses  my 
thoughts,  during  active  service,  as  old  age  crept  on.  Ah,  my  children  ! 
many  a  time,  when  I  have  been  on  duty  at  the  outposts,  at  the  end  of 
a  hard  day's  fight — alone — all  still,  where  such  deep  tumult  had  pre- 
vailed— and  the  moon  shining  full  on  the  field,  of  which  we  were  left 
masters,  but  which  was  now  strewed  with  the  bleeding  corpses  of  some 
eight  or  nine  thousand  men — some  of  them  old  friends  and  comrades 
through  many  a  toilsome  campaign — then  such  a  sight !  and  one's 
own  reflections  would  strip  off  all  the  intoxicating  enjoyment  of  killing 
or  being  killed  (for  it  is  a  sort  of  intoxication  while  its  influence  is  upon 
one);  and  I  used  to  say  to  myself,  'Here  is  a  field,  covered  with 
fellow-creatures,  in  the  morning  strong  and  rejoicing  in  their  strength 
— now  cold,  stiff,  and  insensible  to  all  that  we  strive,  and  quarrel,  and 
contend  for !  Why  have  so  many  fellow-creatures  thus  been  cut 
down  ? — why  left  thus,  like  mere  burthens  to  the  blood-stained  grass 
they  lie  on  ? — why,  oh  why ! '  But  these  reflections  did  not  hinder  me 
from  setting-to  again  just  the  same  when  the  morning  charge  sounded; 
and  there  I  was  again,  cutting  and  slashing  as  fiercely  as  ever !  But 
when,  with  weary  arm,  I  wiped  my  bloody  sword  upon  my  horse's 
mane,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  action,  I  still  found  myself  repeating, 
'  Why,  why  has  my  hand  taken  the  lives  of  so  many  fellow-creatures 
who  never  offended  me  ? ' ' 

The  missionary  and  the  smith  regarded  each  other  with  looks  of 
astonishment,  as  they  heard  the  old  man  give  utterance  to  this  singular 
retrospect  of  his  past  life. 

"  Alas  1 "  replied  Gabriel,  "  't  will  be  ever  thus  with  generous 
hearts  at  the  solemn  time  and  place  you  have  been  describing  !  Then 
the  false  enthusiasm  of  glory  disappears,  and  man  is  left  alone  with  the 
noble  instincts  his  Creator  infused  into  his  soul  when  He  breathed 
into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life." 

"  Which  proves  most  clearly,  my  dear  child,  that  your  nature  is 
superior  to  mine ;  for  these  noble  instincts,  as  you  call  them,  have 
never  abandoned  you.  But  how  did  you  manage  to  escape  from  the 
claws  of  the  enraged  barbarians,  after  they  had  crucified  you  ?  " 

At  this  inquiry  from  Dagobert,  Gabriel  started  ;  and  so  visible  an 
embarrassment  came  over  him,  that  the  soldier  continued, 

"  Nay,  my  boy,  if  my  question  be  one  you  either  cannot  or  ought 
not  to  answer,  forget  that  it  was  ever  spoken." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  conceal,  either  from  you  or  my  brother," 
replied  the  missionary,  in  an  agitated  tone :  "  I  only  hesitated  from 
the  fear  of  being  unable  to  make  that  intelligible  to  you  which,  in  fact, 
I  have  not  been  able  to  understand  myself." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Agricola,  with  astonishment. 

"  Doubtless,"  answered  Gabriel,  colouring  deeply,  "  it  must  have 
been  some  delusion  of  my  senses.  During  the  awful  moments  in  which 
I  waited  death  (I  trust,  with  resignation),  my  mind,  exhausted  and 
weakened,  must  have  been  the  dupe  of  some  appearance,  which,  though 


THE  MORNING.  229 

unaccounted  for  up  to  the  present  instant,  will  one  day  explain  itself 
from  natural  causes.  Had  I  any  tangible  clue  to  assist  me,  I  should 
have  endeavoured  to  discover  who  this  female  was." 

Dagobert,  who  listened  most  attentively  to  the  missionary,  was 
completely  amazed ;  for  he  also  had  vainly  sought  how  to  account  for 
the  unexpected  succour  which  had  enabled  him  and  the  orphans  to 
escape  from  the  prison  at  Leipsic. 

"  Of  what  woman  do  you  speak  ? "  asked  the  smith  of  the  mis- 
sionary. 

"  Of  her  who  saved  me." 

"Was  it  a  woman  who  saved  you  from  the  hands  of  the  savages?" 
inquired  Dagobert. 

"Yes,"  replied  Gabriel,  deeply  buried  in  his  recollections — "a 
woman,  young  and  handsome." 

"  And  who  was  she,  ?  "  asked  Agricola. 

"  I  do  not  know.  When  I  asked  her,  she  answered,  '  /  am  the  sister 
of  the  afflicted!'" 

"  Whence  did  she  come  ?  where  was  she  going  to  ?  "  said  Dagobert, 
singularly  interested. 

"  '/  am  going  where  they  suffer  /'  was  her  reply,"  answered  the 
missionary ;  "  and  she  went  on  her  way  towards  the  north  of  America, 
those  desolate  regions  where  there  is  eternal  snow  and  endless  night." 

"  Like  Siberia,"  said  Dagobert,  pensively. 

"  But,"  resumed  Agricola,  addressing  Gabriel,  who  seemed  to 
become  more  and  more  thoughtful,  "  in  what  way  did  this  woman 
come  to  your  succour? " 

The  missionary  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  blow,  cautiously  struck 
on  the  door  of  the  chamber,  renewed  the  alarm  which  Agricola  had 
forgotten  since  the  arrival  of  his  adopted  brother. 

"  Agricola,"  said  a  gentle  voice  outside  the  door,  "  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you  for  an  instant." 

The  smith  recognised  the  voice  of  La  Mayeux,  and  opened  the 
door.      The   young  girl,  instead  of  entering,  retired  into  the  dar 
passage,  and  said  in  a  disturbed  voice : 

"  Oh,  Agricola  !  it  has  been  broad  daylight  for  the  last  hour,  and 
you  are  still  here — what  imprudence !  I  have  been  watching  below  in 
the  street,  and  up  to  this  time  have  seen  nothing  which  lias  given  me 
any  cause  of  alarm:  but  they  may  come  and  apprehend  you  at  any 
moment,  and  I  entreat  you  to  make  haste  and  go  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville  ;  you  have  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

"  If  Gabriel  had  not  come  I  should  have  gone ;  but  how  could  I 
resist  the  happiness  of  staying  a  few  minutes  with  him?" 

"  Gabriel  here  I "  said  La  Mayeux,  with  agreeable  surprise,  for  we 
have  already  said  that  she  had  been  brought  up  with  him  and  Agricola. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Agricola ;  "  for  the  last  half-hour  he  has  been  here 
with  me  and  my  father." 

"  How  delighted  I  shall  be  to  see  him  again !"  said  La  Mayeux. 
"  He  must  have  come  in  whilst  I  went  to  your  mother  for  a  moment, 
to  ask  if  I  could  be  of  any  use  to  her  in  getting  anything  for  the 
young  ladies ;  but  they  were  so  tired  that  they  are  still  asleep.  Madame 
Francoise  begged  me  to  give  you  this  letter  for  your  father,  whiph.  she 
received," 


230  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Thanks,  good  Mayeux." 

"  Now  you  have  seen  Gabriel,  do  not  delay  any  longer :  only  think 
what  your  father  would  suffer  if  you  were  arrested  in  his  presence." 

"  You  are  right,  and  I  must  go.  I  had  forgotten  all  my  alarms 
with  him  and  Gabriel." 

••  Go  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  perhaps  in  a  couple  of  hours,  if 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  does  you  this  great  service,  you  may  be 
able  to  return  quite  safely  for  yourself  and  friends." 

"  True,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  I  will  go." 

"  I  will  return  and  watch  at  the  door;  if  I  see  anything  I  will 
come  up  stairs  as  quickly  as  possible  to  tell  you.  But  pray  do  not 
delay." 

"  Make  yourself  easy." 

La  Mayeux  descended  the  staircase  rapidly  to  go  and  watch  at  the 
street  door,  and  Agricola  went  back  to  the  attic^ 

"  Father,"  said  he  to  Dagobert,  "  here  is  a  letter  which  my  mother 
has  just  received  and  begs  you  to  read." 

"  Well,  read  it  for  me  my  b'oy."     Agricola  read  as  follows : 

"  Madame, — I  learn  that  your  husband  is  entrusted  by  M.  Gene- 
ral Simon  with  an  affair  of  great  importance.  Will  you  be  so  kind, 
as  soon  as  your  husband  arrives  in  Paris,  as  to  beg  him  to  come  to 
my  office  at  Chartres  without  the  least  delay.  I  am  desired  to  hand 
to  himself,  and  no  one  else,  some  papers  indispensably  necessary  to  the 
interest  of  M.  General  Simon. 

"  DURAND,  Notary  at  Chartres." 

Dagobert  looked  at  his  son  with  an  air  of  astonishment,  and  said  to 
him, 

"  Who  could  have  told  this  gentleman  that  I  was  expected  in 
Paris?" 

"  Perhaps  the  notary  whose  address  you  have  lost,  and  to  whom 
you  sent  the  papers,  father,"  said  Agricola. 

"  But  his  name  was  not  Durand,  and  I  well  remember  he  was  a 
notary  at  Paris  and  not  at  Chartres.  But  then,"  added  the  soldier, 
after  a  moment's  reflection,  "if  he  has  papers  of  great  importance 
which  he  must  only  hand  to  me — " 

"  Why  you  cannot,  I  think,  do  otherwise  than  go  as  soon  as 
possible,"  said  Agricola,  almost  rejoiced  at  a  circumstance  which  would 
take  his  father  away  for  nearly  two  days,  during  which  his  (Agricola's) 
fate  would  be  decided  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  Your  advice  is  good,"  said  Dagobert  to  him. 

"  Does  it  come  across  your  plans  ?"  inquired  Gabriel. 

"  A  Uttle,  my  dear  boy,  for  I  relied  on  passing  the  day  with  you  ; 
but  duty  first,  pleasure  afterwards.  I  have  come  safely  from  Siberia 
to  Paris,  so  I  need  not  have  much  fear  in  going  from  Paris  to  Chartres 
when  it  concerns  a  matter  so  important.  In  twice  twenty-four  hours 
I  shall  be  back  again.  However,  it  is  very  singular;  devil  fetch  me 
if  I  thought  of  leaving  you  to-day  to  go  to  Chartres  !  Fortunately  I 
leave  Rose  and  Blanche  with  my  good  wife,  and  their  angel  Gabriel, 
as  they  call  him,  will  come  and  keep  them  company." 

"  Unfortunately  that  will  be  impossible,"  said  the  missionary  in  a 
sad  tone ;  "  this  visit  on  my  return  to  my  good  mother  and  Agricola, 
is  also  a  visit  of  farewell." 


mi:  MORNING.  231 

"  What!  of  farewell?"  said  Dagobert  and  Agricola  at  tl^e  same 
time. 

"  Alas,  yes !" 

"  Going  again  on  another  mission  ?"  said  Dagobert.  "  That  is  im- 
possible !" 

"  I  cannot  answer  you  on  that  point,"  said  Gabriel,  stifling  a 
sigh  ;  ••  but  for  some  time  to  come  I  cannot,  ought  not  to  visit  this 
house." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  old  soldier  with  emotion,  "  there  is 
in  your  manner  something  that  bespeaks  constraint,  oppression.  I 
know  men,  and  he  whom  you  call  your  superior,  and  whom  I  saw  for 
a  few  moments  after  the  shipwreck  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville,  has  a 
bad  countenance  ;  and  oh  I  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  enlisted  under  the 
banner  of  such  a  captain." 

"  At  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville !"  said  the  smith,  struck  with  the 
resemblance  of  the  name ;  "  was  it  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville  that 
you  were  received  after  your  shipwreck  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  boy — does  that  surprise  you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  father !  And  do  the  owners  of  the  chateau  reside 
there  ? " 

"  No ;  for  the  steward,  whom  I  asked,  that  I  might  thank  them  for 
the  kind  hospitality  which  we  had  received,  told  me  that  the  person  to 
whom  it  belonged  lived  in  Paris." 

"  What  a  singular  coincidence,"  said  Agricola  to  himself,  "  if  this 
young  lady  should  be  the  owner  of  the  chateau  which  bears  her 


name 


This  reflection  reminding  him  of  his  promise  to  La  Mayeux,  he 
said  to  Dagobert, 

"  Father,  excuse  me,  but  it  is  getting  late,  and  I  must  be  at  the 
workshop  at  eight  o'clock." 

"  Well,  then,  my  son,  pray  go.  Our  party  is  delayed  till  my 
return  from  Chartres.  Embrace  me  once  more,  and  then  be  off'  as 
quick  as  you  can." 

From  the  moment  when  Dagobert  had  spoken  to  Gabriel  of 
••  constraint  and  oppression,"  he  had  remained  lost  in  thought ;  and  at 
the  moment  when  Agricola  came  to  him  to  shake  his  hand,  and  say 
adieu,  the  missionary  said  to  him,  in  a  grave,  solemn  tone,  and  an  air 
of  resolution,  which  surprised  the  smith  and  the  soldier, 

"  My  good  brother,  one  other  word :  I  came  also  to  say  that  some 
days  hence  I  shall  have  need  of  you  ;  and  you,  also,  my  father,  if  I  may 
call  you  so,"  added  Gabriel,  in  an  affectionate  voice,  turning  towards 
Dagobert. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  what  is  it  then  ?"  exclaimed  the  smith. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Gabriel,  "  I  shall  have  need  of  the  counsel  and  the 
aid  of  two  men  of  honour,  two  men  of  resolution  ;  I  may  rely  on  you 
two,  may  I  not?  At  any  hour,  at  any  day,  at  any  time,  on  a  word  from 
me,  you  will  come?" 

Dagobert  and  his  son  looked  at  Gabriel  in  silence,  so  greatly  had 
his  accent  surprised  them.  Agricola  felt  his  heart  throb — if  he  were  a 
prisoner  at  the  moment  when  his  brother  required  him,  what  could  he 
do? 

*'  At  any  and  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night,  my  dear  fellow, 


232  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

you  may  rely  on  us,"  said  Dagobert,  as  much  surprised  as  interested. 

"  You  have  a  father  and  a  brother — make  use  of  them  ! " 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  said  Gabriel;  "you  make  me  very  happy." 

"  Do  you  know  one  thing  ?"  added  the  soldier :  "  if  it  were  not  for 

the  robe  you  wear,  I  should  think  there  was  a  duel  in  the  wind,  by  the 

way  you  ask  us." 

"A  duel!"  said  the  missionary,  starting.      "Yes!  there  may  be, 

perhaps,  a  strange,  a  terrible  duel,  at  which  I  shall  require  two  such 

seconds  such  as  you — a  FATHER  and  a  BROTHER." 


A  few  moments  afterwards,  Agricola,  who  had  by  this  time  become 
very  uneasy,  went  hastily  to  the  abode  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
whither  we  will  also  conduct  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT-DIZIEB. — THE  PAVILION. 

THE  hotel  de  Saint-Dizier  was  one  of  the  most  extensive  and 
elegant  mansions  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  at  Paris. 

Nothing  could  be  more  formal,  more  striking,  and  more  dull,  than 
the  sight  of  this  ancient  abode.  Immense  window-frames,  with  small 
panes  of  glass,  and  painted  a  greyish  white,  made  the  large  blocks  of 
hewn  stone  of  which  it  was  built,  blackened  as  they  were  by  the  sun, 
more  sombre  still. 

This  abode  was  similar  to  all  those  built  in  the  same  quarter,  about 
the  middle  of  the  last  century.  It  was  a  large  full-fronted  building, 
with  a  triangular  pediment  and  a  sloping  roof  raised  from  a  first  floor, 
and  a  ground  floor,  by  which  you  ascended  by  a  flight  of  steps.  One 
of  the  fa£ades  faced  a  large  court-yard,  bounded  on  each  side  by 
arcades  communicating  with  extensive  outbuildings  ;  another  fa£ade 
looked  upon  the  garden,  which  was  actually  a  park  of  twelve  or  fifteen 
acres,  and  on  this  side  two  semicircular  wings,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
main  centre,  formed  two  galleries. 

As  in  nearly  all  the  large  houses  in  this  quarter,  so  was  there  here, 
at  the  extremity  of  the  garden,  what  they  called  the  little  hdlef,  or 
small  house. 

It  was  a  pavilion  a  la  Pompadour,  circular,  and  in  the  charming 
bad  taste  of  the  period,  presenting  in  every  part,  where  the  stone  had 
been  prodigally  employed,  an  immense  quantity  of  leaves,  love-knots, 
wreaths  of  flowers,  flying  Cupids,  &c.  &c.  This  pavilion,  in  which 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville  lived,  consisted  of  a  ground  floor,  to  which 
access  was  given  by  a  peristyle,  elevated  by  several  steps ;  a  small 
vestibule  leading  to  a  circular  salon,  lighted  from  above.  Four  other 
apartments  led  from  this ;  and  several  rooms  abovp,  which  were  con- 
f  ealed  In  the  higher  rtory,  v?re  reached  by  a  private 


GEORGETTE     AND    LUTINE. 


l..iii.|i>n  ;  Chapman  and  Mall       \pnl  I. 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT-DIZIER. — THE  PAVILION.  233 

These  out-buildings  to  large  mansions  are  in  our  days  unoccupied, 
or  converted  into  orangeries ;  but,  by  a  rare  exception,  the  pavilion  of 
the  hotel  de  Saint-Dizier  had  been  cleared  and  restored,  and  its  whito 
stone  shone  like  Paros  marble,  and  its  lively  and  renewed  appearance 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  dull  and  sombre  building,  which  was  seen 
from  the  extremity  of  a  large  band  of  sward,  planted  in  various 
patches,  with  clumps  of  gigantic  tress. 

The  following  scene  passed  here  the  morning  after  that  on  which 
Dagobert  had  arrived  at  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  with  General  Simon's 
daughters. 

The  clock  of  the  neighbouring  church  struck  eight,  and  the  bright 
early  sun  of  winter  shone  brilliantly  in  the  pure  blue  sky  behind  the 
large  and  full-leaved  trees,  which  formed  a  dome  of  verdure  above  the 
little  pavilion  of  Louis  XV. 

The  door  of  the  vestibule  opened,  and  the  sun's  rays  fell  on  a 
charming  creature,  or  rather  two  charming  creatures,  for  one  of  them, 
although  occupying  a  lower  step  in  the  ladder  of  creation,  was  not  the 
less  remarkable  for  her  extreme  beauty. 

In  other  words,  a  young  girl  and  a  splendid  little  dog  of  King 
Charles's  breed  appeared  under  the  peristyle  of  the  little  hotel. 

The  girl's  name  was  Georgette,  that  of  the  little  dog  Lutine. 
Georgette  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  never  did  Florine  or  Marton, 
never  did  a  soubrette  of  Marivaux,  present  a  more  arch  countenance,  an 
eye  more  sparkling,  a  smile  more  attractive,  teeth  more  white,  cheeks 
more  rosy,  a  form  more  slender,  foot  better  formed,  or  figure  more 
attractive. 

Although  it  was  very  early,  Georgette  was  dressed  with  care  and 
nicety.  A  small  cap  of  Valenciennes  lace,  with  side-pieces  coming  over 
the  ears,  something  after  the  fashion  of  the  peasant  girls,  trimmed  with 
pink  ribands,  and  placed  coquettishly  at  the  back  of  her  head, 
displayed  beautiful  bandeaux  of  light  chestnut  hair,  which  encircled 
her  fresh  and  pretty  face.  A  gown  of  grey  levantine,  with  a  small 
lawn  handkerchief  fastened  round  her  waist  by  a  large  bow  of  pink 
satin,  set  off  to  advantage  her  round  but  thin  waist;  whilst  an  apron  of 
snow-white  holland,  trimmed  round  the  bottom  with  three  large 
hems,  between  which  was  open  work,  added  another  attraction  to 
her  graceful  shape.  Her  sleeves,  short  and  broad,  M'ere  edged 
with  a  quilling  of  lace,  displaying  to  advantage  her  plump,  firm,  and 
white  arms  ;  which  her  long  gloves  of  pcau  de  Suede  that  reached 
to  her  elbows,  defended  from  the  severity  of  the  weather.  When 
Georgette  lifted  up  her  gown  to  descend  the  steps  more  quickly,  she 
displayed  to  the  regardless  eyes  of  nature  the  lower  part  of  a 
well-formed  leg  in  a  white  silk-stocking,  and  a  beautiful  little  foot  in 
a  slipper  of  black  satin  tttrc. 

When  a  blonde,  like  Georgette,  lias  also  a  piquant  expression  ; 
when  her  blue  eyes  sparkle  with  gaiety  and  innocence ;  when  a  joyous 
liveliness  brightens  her  transparent  skin,  she  has  yet  more  freshness, 
more  attraction,  than  a  brunette. 

This  complaisant  and  pleasant-mannered  soubrelfe,  who  had  on  the 
previous  evening  introduced  Agricola  into  the  pavilion,  was  first  femme 
(ff  cftamhre  of  Madejnoisello  Adrienne  de  Cardovillo,  niece  o 
(he  Princewe  de 


234  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Lutine,  so  luckily  found  by  the  smith,  barked  joyfully,  and  bounded, 
ran,  and  sported  on  the  turf.  She  was  little  larger  than  a  good  sized 
fist;  her  glossy  hide,  of  bright  black,  shone  like  polished  ebony,  under 
the  large  red  satin  riband  which  was  round  her  neck  ;  her  feet,  with 
longer  silky  fringe,  were  of  a  deep  red,  as  was  her  muzzle,  which  was 
singularly  flat ;  her  large  eyes  shone  with  intelligence,  whilst  her 
feathered  eais  were  so  long  that  they  touched  the  ground. 

Georgette  seemed  as  active  and  as  full  of  mirth  as  Lutine,  whose 
sport  she  encouraged,  by  running  after  her  and  then  from  her  on  the 
greensward. 

At  the  sight  of  a  second  person,  who  advanced  sedately  to- 
wards them,  Lutine  and  Georgette  stopped  suddenly  in  the  midst  of 
their  mirth.  The  little  King  Charles,  who  was  in  advance  a  few  steps, 
as  bold  as  a  lion  and  faithful  to  his  name,  stood  firmly  on  her  strong 
little  paws  and  boldly  awaited  the  enemy,  shewing  two  rows  of  small 
sharp  teeth,  white  as  ivory. 

The  enemy  consisted  of  a  woman  of  mature  years,  accompanied  by 
a  fat  dog  of  the  pug  breed,  of  a  sandy  colour,  and  his  tail  curling  like 
a  corkscrew,  and  with  a  large  paunch,  bright  skin,  and  his  neck  rather 
on  one  side ;  he  walked  with  his  legs  very  wide  apart,  with  an  air  of 
great  seriousness  and  importance.  His  black  muzzle,  his  morose  and 
suspicious  look,  and  two  tusks  sticking  out  on  each  side  of  his  mouth, 
which  kept  his  lips  from  closing,  gave  to  the  animal  an  expression 
of  singular  repugnance  and  crabbedness.  This  disagreeable  brute,  the 
perfect  type  of  what  might  be  called  a  "  devotees  dog"  answered  to  the 
name  of  Monsieur. 

Monsieur's  mistress  was  a  female  about  fifty  years  of  age,  of 
middling  height,  and  stout,  attired  in  a  dress  as  demure  and  sombre  as 
that  of  Georgette's  was  becoming  and  gay.  It  consisted  of  a  brown 
gown,  of  a  mantelet  of  black  silk,  and  a  bonnet  of  the  same  colour ;  her 
features  must  have  been  agreeable  in  her  youth,  and  her  full-coloured 
cheeks,  marked  eyebrows,  and  coal-black  eyes  full  of  fire,  were  little 
in  unison  with  the  formal  and  austere  look  which  she  endeavoured  to 
assume. 

This  demure  matron,  with  the  slow  and  measured  step,  was 
Madame  Augustine  Grivois,  first  femme  of  Madame  the  Princesse  de 
Saint-Dizier. 

Not  only  did  the  ages,  countenances,  and  dress,  of  these  two 
females  offer  so  complete  a  contrast,  but  the  difference  extended 
equally  to  the  animals  that  accompanied  them.  There  was  as  much 
variety  between  Lutine  and  Monsieur  as  between  Georgette  and  Ma- 
dame Grivois.  When  the  latter  saw  the  little  King  diaries,  she 
could  not  restrain  a  movement  of  surprise  and  annoyance,  which  was 
not  lost  on  Georgette. 

Lutine,  who  had  not  retreated  an  inch  since  Monsieur  had  ap- 
peared, looked  at  him  courageously  and  with  an  air  of  defiance,  and 
then  advanced  towards  him  with  an  air  so  decidedly  hostile  that  the  pug, 
though  three  times  as  big  as  the  small  King  Charles's  breed,  uttered  a 
cry  of  distress,  and  then  took  hasty  refuge  behind  Madame  Grivois, 
who  said  to  Georgette,  in  a  sharp  voice, 

"  It  seems  to  me,  ma'amselle,  that  you  need  not  set  your  dog  on 
to  fight  with  mine." 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT  DIZIER. — THE  PAVILION.  235 

"  No  doubt  it  was  to  shelter  your  respectable  and  ugly  animal 
from  these  rencounters  that  you  yesterday  endeavoured  to  lose  Lutine, 
by  driving  her  into  the  street  by  the  little  garden-gate.  Fortunately, 
however,  a  worthy  and  honest  young  man  found  Lutine  in  the  Rue 
de  Babylone,  and  brought  her  back  to  my  mistress.  But  may  I  in- 
quire, madame,  how  it  is  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  out  so 
early  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  am  desired  by  the  princess,"  replied  Madame  Grivois,  unable 
to  conceal  a  smile  of  triumphant  satisfaction,  "  to  see  Mademoiselle 
Adrienue  this  very  moment,  as  I  have  a  most  important  matter  to  com- 
muiiicate  to  her." 

At  these  words  Georgette  turned  exceedingly  red,  and  could  not 
repress  a  slight  appearance  of  uneasiness,  which,  however,  fortunately 
escaped  Madame  Grivois,  who  was  watching  over  Monsieur's  safety, 
to  whom  Lutine  was  drawing  nigher,  with  a  very  threatening  aspect. 
Georgette,  having  subdued  this  momentary  emotion,  replied  boldly, 

"  Mademoiselle  went  to  bed  very  late,  and  desired  that  I  would 
not  disturb  her  before  noon." 

"  That  may  be  so ;  but,  as  I  am  only  obeying  the  orders  of  the 
princess,  her  aunt,  I  must  trouble  you,  if  you  please,  ma'ainselle,  to 
wake  your  lady  this  instant." 

"  My  lady  takes  orders  from  no  one  ;  she  is  here  in  her  own  house, 
and  therefore  I  shall  not  waken  her  until  twelve  o'clock,  according  to 
her  orders." 

"  Then  I  will  go  myself." 

"  Florine  and  Hebe  M-ill  not  open  the  door  to  you.  I  have  the  key 
of  the  salon,  and  it  is  only  through  the  salon  that  you  can  obtain  access 
to  mademoiselle." 

"  What !  will  you  dare  to  refuse  to  allow  me  to  execute  the  prin- 
cess's orders  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  dare  commit  the  heinous  crime  of  not  allowing  my  lady 
to  be  aroused." 

"  Yes,  truly,  this  is  one  of  the  results  of  the  blind  goodness  of  the 
princess  to  her  niece  ! "  said  the  matron,  with  an  air  of  regret.  "  Ma- 
demoiselle Adrienne  no  longer  respects  her  aunt's  commands,  but 
surrounds  herself  with  young  wantons,  who,  from  the  moment  they 
rise,  are  dressed  up  like  ornamented  shrines." 

"  Ah,  madame!  how  can  you  find  fault  with  costume,  you  who 
formerly  were  so  remarkable  for  your  style — the  most  coquettish  of  all 
the  princess's  ladies  ?  And  that  system  goes  on  from  generation  to 
•generation  until  the  present  day." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  from  generation  to  generation  ? '  Would 
you  imply  that  I  have  lived  for  a  century  ?  YOU  become  impertinent, 
ma'amselie." 

"  I  was  alluding  to  the  generation  of  femmes  de  cJiambre :  for, 
except  yourself,  no  one  stays  more  than  two  or  three  years  with  the 
princess — she  has  too  many  odd  ways  for  the  poor  girls " 

"  I  beg,  ma'amselie,  that  you  will  not  speak  thus  of  the  princess. 
Her  name  ought  only  to  be  mentioned  on  bended  knees." 

"  Yet,  if  one  would  say  a  little  bit  of  scandal " 

"  Dare  you  ?  " 

"  Not  later  than  last  evening,  at  half-past  eleven  o'clock " 


236  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Last  evening ! " 

"  A  hackney-coach  stopped  a  few  yards  from  our  hotel,  a  mys- 
terious personage,  wrapped  in  a  mantle,  alighted,  and  tapped  very 
carefully,  not  at  the  door,  but  on  the  glass  of  the  porter's  window  ;  at 
one  o'clock  this  morning  the  hackney-coach  was  still  there  in  the  street, 
awaiting  the  mysterious  personage  in  the  cloak,  who,  during  this  time, 
was  no  doubt  pronouncing  the  name  of  the  princess  on  his  bended 
knees." 

Whether  Madame  Grivois  was  really  not  aware  of  the  visit  made  to 
Madame  Saint-Dizier  by  Rodin  (for  it  was  he)  on  the  previous  night, 
after  he  had  learnt  the  arrival  of  General  Simon's  daughters  in  Paris ; 
or  whether  concealment  of  the  fact  was  her  policy,  she  replied,  with 
a  disdainful  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 

"  I  really  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  ma'amselle ;  and  I  did  not 
come  here  to  listen  to  your  impertinences.  But  again  I  ask,  will  you, 
or  will  you  not,  conduct  me  to  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  ?  " 

"  I  repeat  that  my  lady  is  asleep,  and  has  given  me  orders  not  to 
disturb  her  before  noon." 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  at  some  distance  from  the 
pavilion,  the  peristyle  of  which  was  visible  at  the  end  of  a  long  avenue 
which  ended  in  a  quincunx. 

Suddenly  Madame  Grivois  exclaimed,  stretching  out  her  hands  in 
that  direction, 

"  Ah  !  is  it  possible  ?     What  have  I  seen  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  did  you  see  ?  "  said  Georgette,  turning  towards  her. 

"  What  have  I  seen  ?  "  repeated  Madame  Grivois,  in  amazement, 

"  Yes,  what  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Adrienne ! " 

"  And  where  ?  " 

"  Why,  going  very  rapidly  up  the  steps.     I  "knew  her  directly  by 

her  figure,  her  bonnet,  her  cloak Come  in  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 

morning ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois.     "  I  can  scarcely  credit  my 
eyesight." 

"  Mademoiselle  ?  You  saw  mademoiselle  ?  "  and  Georgette  began 
to  laugh  violently.  "  Ah,  I  understand  ;  you  want  to  find  your  revenge 
for  my  true  story  about  the  hackney-coach  of  last  night.  Well,  that's 
clever  of  you,  any  how  ! " 

"  I  repeat,  that  at  this  very  moment  I  saw  her." 

"  Come,  come,  Madame  Grivois,  if  you  speak  seriously,  you  must 

have  lost  your  senses " 

"  Ah !  lost  my  senses,  eh  ?  because  my  eyesight  is  too  good.  The 
little  door  which  opens  from  the  street  leads  into  the  quincunx 
near  the  pavilion,  and  no  doubt  it  is  by  that  that  mademoiselle  has 
entered.  Oh!  how  it  will  affect  the  princess  when  I  tell  her !  But 
her  presentiments  did  not  deceive  her.  Only  see  to  what  an  extent 
her  weakness  for  the  caprices  of  her  niece  have  led  her  I  It  is  mon- 
strous I  really  monstrous  !  and  although  I  saw  it  with  my  eyes,  I  can 
hardly  credit -it." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  madame,  I  will  now  conduct  you  to  my  lady, 
that  you  may  be  assured  that  you  have  been  deceived  by  your 
vision." 

(f  Qb>  yow  we  very  winning,  my  dew  j  but  not  too  deep  for  me, 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET.  237 

You  offer  to  let  me  in  now — of  course  you  will,  because  now  you  know 
that  I  shall  find  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  within." 

"  But,  madame,  I  assure  you " 

"  All  I  can  say,  ma'amselle,  is,  that  neither  you,  nor  Florine,  nor 
Hebe,  shall  remain  here  twenty-four  hours  longer:  the  princess  must 
put  a  stop  to  such  scandalous  behaviour,  and  I  will  go  this  moment 
and  tell  her  all  about  it.  Go  out  at  night !  —  return  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning !  I  am  really  quite  upset  at  the  very  idea ;  and 
if  I  had  not  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes  I  could  not  have  believed  it. 
After  all,  this  might  have  been  expected  to  happen,  and  no  one  need 
to  be  astonished.  I  am  sure  that  every  body  to  whom  I  may  relate 
this  horrid  story  will  say,  '  Oh,  I'm  not  surprised  at  all  I  Oh  !  what 
pain  this  will  give  the  worthy  princess ! — what  a  blow  it  will  be  for 
her  ! ' '  And  Madame  Grivois  returned  with  great  haste  to  the  hotel, 
followed  by  Monsieur,  who  appeared  as  indignant  as  his  mistress. 

Georgette  ran  lightly  and  nimbly  towards  the  pavilion,  in  order 
to  warn  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  that  Madame  Grivois 
had  seen  her,  or  thought  she  had  seen  her,  enter  secretly  by  the  little 
garden-gate. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ADRIENNE'S  TOILET. 

ABOUT  an  hour  had  passed  since  Madame  Grivois  had  seen,  ot 
thought  she  saw,  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  enter  the 
pavilion  of  the  Chateau  de  Saint-Dizier  at  so  early  an  hour. 

To  explain  and  not  apologise  for  the  eccentricity  of  the  following 
descriptions,  we  must  throw  some  light  on  the  peculiar  characteristics 
which  marked  the  disposition  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville. 

This  originality  consisted  in  an  extreme  independence  of  spirit, 
joined  to  an  innate  aversion  from  every  thing  that  was  ugly  or  repul- 
sive, and  a  surpassing  desire  to  surround  herself  with  all  that  was 
beautiful  and  attractive. 

The  painter  the  most  devoted  to  colouring,  the  statuary  the  most 
devoted  to  contour,  do  not  feel  more  deeply  than  Adrienne  the  enthu- 
siasm which  the  sight  of  perfect  beauty  always  inspires  in  fine  minds. 

And  it  was  not  only  the  pleasures  of  the  sight,  that  this  young 
lady  delighted  to  gratify  ;  the  harmonious  modulations  of  singing,  the 
melody  of  instruments,  the  cadence  of  poetry,  gave  her  extreme  plea- 
sure ;  whilst  a  harsh  voice,  a  discordaut  noise,  made  her  experience 
the  same  painful  and  almost  grievous  impression  which  she  involun- 
tarily experienced  at  the  sight  of  a  hideous  spectacle.  Loving  flowers 
and  perfumes  even  to  passion,  she  enjoyed  sweet  odours  as  she  did 
sweet  music,  as  she  did  the  sublime  and  beautiful.  Must  we  also  con- 
fess an  enormity  ?  Then  Adrienne  was  dainty,  and  appreciated  most 
fully  the  pulpy  freshness  of  fine  fruit,  the  delicate  flavour  of  a  pheasant 
cooked  to  a  turn,  and  the  delicious  bouquet  of  generous  wine. 


238  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

But  Adrienne  enjoyed  all  this  with  exquisite  reserve,  and  it  was  a 
part  of  her  faith  to  cultivate,  with  the  utmost  refinement,  the  senses 
with  which  the  Creator  had  endowed  her ;  and  she  would  have  consi- 
dered it  the  height  of  ingratitude  to  have  carried  these  tastes  to 
excess,  or  to  have  debased  them  by  unworthy  application  of  their  en- 
joyment, from  which  abuse  she  was  also  preserved  by  the  strict  and 
perfect  delicacy  of  her  taste. 

The  HANDSOME  and  UGLY  with  her  were  but  other  words  for  the 
GOOD  and  ILL. 

Her  worship  of  grace,  elegance,  and  physical  beauty  had  led  her  to 
the  worship  of  moral  beauty  ;  for  if  the  expression  of  a  base  and  low 
passion  makes  the  loveliest  countenance  ugly,  so  the  plainest  faces  are 
ennobled  by  the  expression  of  generous  feelings.  In  a  word,  Adrienne 
was  the  most  complete  personification,  the  beau  ideal,  of  SENSUALITY  ; 
not  that  common  sensuality  so  uninformed,  unintelligent,  ill-directed, 
and  always  false,  corrupted  by  habit  or  the  necessity  of  indulging  in 
gross  delights,  in  which  refinement  is  utterly  lost  sight  of,  but  of  that 
exquisite  sensuality  which  is  to  the  senses  what  poignancy  is  to  wit. 

The  independence  of  this  young  lady's  mind  was  excessive ;  and 
certain  humiliations  imposed  on  her  sex  by  her  social  position  had  re- 
volted her  past  description,  and  she  had  boldly  resolved  to  cast  off  the 
oppression  of  their  yoke. 

Let  us  say  distinctly,  there  was  nothing  masculine  in  Adrienne's 
character ;  she  was  a  woman  the  most  feminine  that  can  be  imagined ; 
a  woman  in  her  graces,  her  whims,  her  charms,  her  dazzling  and  wo- 
manly beauty ;  a  woman  in  her  timidity  as  by  her  audacity  ;  a  woman 
in  her  hate  of  the  brutal  despotism  of  men  as  well  as  by  the  disincli- 
nation to  link  herself  blindly,  utterly,  to  some  one  who  should  deserve 
such  devotion  ;  a  woman  too,  in  her  sparkling  and  somewhat  para- 
doxical spirit ;  a  superior  woman,  in  fact,  because  of  her  contempt,  so 
just  and  full  of  mockery,  for  certain  men  greatly  elevated  in  society  or 
grossly  flattered,  whom  she  had  met  in  the  salons  of  her  aunt,  the 
Princesse  de  Saint-Dizier,  when  she  lived  with  her. 

These  necessary  explanations  given,  we  will  introduce  the  reader  to 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  who  had  just  left  her  bath. 

We  lack  the  brilliant  colours  of  the  Venetian  school  to  display  this 
charming  scene,  which  seemed  to  belong  rather  to  the  sixteenth 
century,  in  some  palaces  of  Bologna  or  Florence,  than  to  Paris,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  in  the  month  of  February, 
1832. 

The  dressing-closet  of  Adrienne  was  a  sort  of  small  temple,  which 
might  have  been  erected  to  the  worship  of  Beauty,  through  gratitude 
for  having  bestowed  so  many  charms  on  the  softer  sex,  not  that 
they  should  neglect  them,  not  that  they  should  cover  them  with  ashes, 
not  that  they  should  be  debased  by  contact  with  coarse  and  sordid 
sackcloth, — but  for  the  expression  of  gratitude  for  being  enriched  with 
all  the  attractions  of  grace,  and  all  the  splendour  of  decoration,  that  the 
handiwork  of  the  Divinity  may  be  admired  by  all. 

The  light  was  admitted  into  this  semi-circular  apartment  by  a 
double  window,  which  made  the  apartment  air-tight,  and  for  whose 
origin  we  are  indebted  to  Germany.  The  walls  of  the  pavilion,  formed 
of  large  square  blocks  of  stone,  made  the  embrasure  of  the  window 


ADRIENME'8    TOILET-CHAMBER. 
P.  »•». 


London  :  Chapman  and  Hall.     Juno  1.  IMS. 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET.  239 

very  deep,  and  it  shut  from  without  by  a  frame  made  of  a  single  pane 
of  glass,  and  within,  of  a  square  of  ground  glass  ;  and  in  the  space  of 
nearly  three  feet  between  these  two  windows  was  a  box  filled  with  peat 
earth,  in  which  were  planted  climbing  plants,  which,  wandering  about 
the  ground  gla*s,  formed  a  thick  garland  of  leaves  and  blossoms. 

Hangings  of  granite-coloured  damask,  shaded  with  arabesques  of  a 
lighter  hue,  covered  the  walls ;  whilst  a  thick  carpet,  of  the  same  tint, 
was  spread  over  the  floor.  This  sombre  ground,  almost  a  neutral  tint, 
set  off'  the  other  decorations  admirably. 

Under  the  window,  which  looked  to  the  South,  was  Adrienne's 
toilet-table,  w  hich  was  a  masterpiece  of  elaboi-ate  goldsmith's  work. 

On  a  large  slab  of  lapis  lazuli  were  seen  numerous  vases  of 
brilliant  red,  the  tops  of  which  were  splendidly  enamelled ;  smelling- 
bottles  of  rock  crystal,  and  other  toilet  requisites,  in  mother-o'-pearl, 
tortoise-shell,  and  ivory,  encrusted  witli  ornaments  in  gold  of  the  most 
exquisite  workmanship  ;  two  large  silver  figures,  modelled  with  classic 
purity,  supported  a  large  oval  swing-glass,  which,  instead  of  being 
enclosed  in  a  formal  carved  and  twisted  frame,  was  bordered  with  a 
wreath  of  natural  flowers,  daily  renewed  and  arranged  with  all  the  care 
and  taste  of  a  bouquet  for  a  ball. 

Two  enormous  blue  china  vases,  beautifully  covered  with  a  rich 
purple  and  gold  design,  and  standing  at  least  three  feet  high,  were 
placed  at  each  side  of  the  toilet-table,  full  of  camelias.  hibiscus, 
and  gardenias,  in  full  bloom,  forming  a  mass  of  the  most  delicious 
odours  as  well  as  colouring. 

At  the  end  of  the  chamber  opposite  the  window,  and  also  sur- 
rounded with  another  clustering  assemblage  of  the  rarest  flowers,  was 
a  small  marble  model  of  the  enchanting  group  of  Daphnis  and  Chloe, 
the  most  chaste  and  exquisite  personation  of  graceful  modesty  and 
youthful  beauty  ;  while  two  golden  lamps,  burning  and  diffusing  the 
richest  odours,  were  placed  on  the  slab  of  malachite  which  supported 
this  charming  group. 

A  large  coffer  of  frosted  silver,  standing  upon  claws  of  gilt  bronze, 
with  raised  ornaments  of  gold  and  vermeil,  and  glittering  with  precious 
stones  of  every  colour,  served  to  contain  the  different  articles  required 
for  the  toilet ;  two  Psyche  glasses,  furnished  with  girandoles,  some 
first-rate  copies  of  Raphael  and  Titian,  painted  by  Adrienne  herself, 
representing  only  persons  of  exquisite  beauty  ;  consoles  of  Oriental 
jasper,  supporting  ewers  of  silver  and  vermeil,  covered  with  an  alto- 
relievo  of  the  rarest  kind,  and  containing  the  most  delicate  essences 
and  scented  waters ;  a  divan  of  downy  softness,  some  chairs,  and  a 
table  of  gilded  wood,  completed  the  fittings-up  of  an  apartment  re- 
dolent of  the  choicest  sweets. 

Adrienne,  who  had  just  taken  her  bath,  was  sitting  before  her 
toilet,  surrounded  by  her  three  attendants. 

From  whim,  or  perhaps  from  that  predominant  love  of  beauty  and 
harmony  in  all  things  which  formed  so  striking  a  part  of  her  character, 
Adrienne  insisted  that  the  young  girls  by  whom  she  was  waited  upon 
should  possess  a  natural  loveliness,  further  increased  by  the  most  taste- 
ful and  becoming  costume. 

Georgette,  in  her  bewitching  attire  as  the  soubrette  of  Marivaux, 


240  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

has  been  already  described,  and  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  her  two 
companions  were  every  way  equal  to  her  in  graceful  prettiness. 

One  of  them,  named  Florine,  was  a  tall,  elegant  girl,  whose  whole 
contour  reminded  the  spectator  of  the  hunting  Diana.  She  was  a 
clear,  pale  brunette,  with  thick,  rich,  glossy  hair,  black  as  the  raven's 
wing,  twisted  in  a  thick  coil  around  her  head,  and  fastened  at  the  back 
by  a  golden  bodkin  ;  like  the  other  attendants  she  wore  her  arms 
uncovered,  for  the  greater  facility  of  employing  them  at  the  toilet  of 
her  mistress.  She  was  dressed  in  a  robe  of  that  peculiar  green  so 
frequently  met  with  in  Venetian  paintings,  the  skirt  of  her  robe  was 
ample,  and  the  tightly  fitting  corsage,  cut  squarely  over  the  bosom, 
displayed  a  snowy  cambric  tucker  finely  plaited,  and  clasped  down  the 
front  with  some  golden  buttons. 

The  third  of  Adrienne's  serving-maids  had  so  sweet,  so  open,  and 
so  blooming  a  countenance,  a  shape  so  perfect,  yet  so  delicate,  that 
her  mistress  had  bestowed  on  her  the  appellation  of  Hebe  :  her  dress  of 
pale  pink  was  so  fashioned  as  to  reveal  her  fair  round  throat  and  arms 
naked  to  the  shoulder. 

The  physiognomies  of  these  three  young  persons  were  smiling  and 
happy,  their  features  exhibited  none  of  that  sour  suspicion,  begrudging 
obedience,  offensive  familiarity,  or  mean  abject  deference,  so  commonly 
resulting  from  a  state  of  servitude. 

In  the  attention  and  assiduity  which  they  lavished  upon  Adrienne, 
they  appeared  actuated  as  much  by  affection  and  choice  as  by  respect, 
and  seemed  to  delight  in  bestowing  a  fresh  lustre  upon  the  brilliant 
beauty  of  their  young  mistress ;  in  their  zeal  and  anxiety  to  adorn  and 
embellish  her  they  worked  with  all  the  pleasure  an  artist  would  give  to 
some  "  ceuvre  d'art,"  and  evinced  as  much  joy  as  pride  and  fondness 
in  the  success  of  their  labours. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  toilet-table  placed  opposite  the 
window.  Adrienne  was  seated  in  a  low  chair  with  a  high  back  ;  she 
was  dressed  only  in  a  wrapping-gown  of  pale  blue  silk,  figured  over 
with  a  device  of  the  same  colour  ;  a  silk  cord  and  tassels  confined  it 
round  her  waist,  graceful  and  slender  as  that  of  a  child  of  twelve  years 
old;  her  beautiful  and  birdlike  throat  was  uncovered,  as  were  her 
hands  and  arms  of  incomparable  beauty.  Spite  of  the  common-place 
comparison,  we  can  liken  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  this  smooth, 
polished  skin,  to  nothing  but  the  finest  ivory ;  and  so  firm,  so  healthy 
was  its  texture,  that  a  few  drops  of  water,  which  had  remained  among 
the  roots  of  her  hair  on  quitting  the  bath,  trickled  down  her  shoulders 
like  pearls  rolling  over  white  marble. 

What  heightened  still  more  the  vivid  carnation  peculiar  to  persons 
so  fair,  was  the  deep  red  of  her  dewy  lips,  the  transparent  pink  of  her 
little  ear,  her  expanded  nostrils,  and  her  exquisitely  shaped  and 
glossy  nails;  wherever,  in  fact,  the  pure  life-blood  could  rise  to  the 
surface,  it  betokened  health,  strength,  and  youth. 

The  eyes  of  Adrienne  were  large  and  black,  sometimes  sparkling 
with  playful  malice,  at  others,  languishing  and  half-hid  beneath  their 
long  curled  fringes,  as  dark  as  the  finely  arched  brows  which  sur- 
mounted them  ;  for,  by  a  charming  freak  of  nature,  her  eyelashes  and 
eyebrows  were  jet  black,  while  her  hair  was  strongly  tinged  with  red. 


THE    TOILET    OF    ADRIENNE. 
P.  Ml. 


Clmi'iimn  nn<l  Hall.     Fi>)>ruarv  I,  1845. 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET.  24i 

Her  forehead,  small  as  those  of  Grecian  statues,  completed  the  perfect 
oval  of  her  face;  her  delicately  shaped  nose  was  slightly  aquiline;  her 
teeth  were  of  dazzlihg  whiteness  ;  while  her  ripe,  rosy  mouth,  seemed 
formed  but  for  pleasure,  smiles,  and  happiness. 

It  was  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  easy,  yet  dignified,  manner  of 
carrying  the  head ;  and  this  graceful,  yet  queenlike  air,  was  materially 
owing  to  the  immense  distance  from  her  ear  and  throat  to  the  tip  of  her 
dimpled  shoulders. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  hair  of  Adrienne  as  being  of  a 
reddish  hue,  but  it  was  that  peculiar  colour  which  several  of  the  most 
admirable  female  portraits  painted  by  Titian,  or  Leonard!  da  Vinci, 
possess.  Nothing  could  be  more  bright,  more  glossy,  than  those 
masses  of  golden  coloured  hair,  waving  in  natural  beauty  as  though 
liquid  gold  were  circulating  hi  fine  silky  thread  ;  and  so  long  was 
this  luxuriant  ornament,  that  when  standing  it  nearly  touched  the 
ground,  or  its  fair  owner  could  almost  enfold  herself  in  it  like  the 
Venus  rising  from  the  sea. 

At  this  instant  the  aspect  was  doubly  charming,  for  Georgette, 
standing  behind  her  mistress,  had  just  collected  the  thick  mass,  almost 
too  much  for  her  tiny  hand  to  grasp,  while  the  bright  sun  shone  with 
reflected  splendour  on  the  rich  tresses  and  redoubled  their  lustre. 

As  the  fair  waiting-maid  plunged  the  ivory  comb  in  the  midst  of 
the  enormous  silken  tresses,  it  almost  seemed  as  though  bright  sparks 
issued  forth,  while  the  morning's  light  and  sun,  as  they  played  among 
the  thick  long  ringlets  which  parted  off  the  forehead,  fell  down  the 
fair  cheeks  of  Adrienne,  glittered  and  flickered  over  the  golden  threads, 
and  playfully  wantoned  with  the  quantity  of  curls  which  hung  over  the 
snowy  bosom  of  the  bewitching  person  we  are  describing. 

While  Georgette,  standing  behind  her  mistress,  thus  braided  and 
arranged  her  beautiful  hair,  Hebe,  kneeling  on  one  knee,  and  having 
on  the  other  the  small  foot  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  was 
occupied  in  placing  on  it  a  fairy-like  slipper  of  black  satin,  and  san- 
dalling it  over  a  thin  open-worked  silk  stocking,  which  permitted 
the  delicate  pinky  whiteness  of  the  skin  to  be  visible,  and  displayed  an 
ancle  of  most  exquisite  delicacy  and  proportions.  Florine,  standing  at 
a  trifling  distance,  presented  to  her  mistress  a  vermeil  box,  containing  a 
paste  of  most  fragrant  perfumes,  with  which  Adrienne  lightly  touched 
her  dazzlingly  white  hands  and  taper  fingers,  the  extremity  of  which 
appeared  tinged  with  carmine. 

We  must  not  forget  Lutine,  who,  reposing  on  the  lap  of  her  mis- 
tress, opened  her  large  eyes  as  wide  as  possible,  and  seemed  to  follow 
the  different  phases  of  Adrienne's  toilet  with  profound  attention. 

A  silver  bell  having  sounded  without,  Florine,  at  a  sign  from  her 
mistress,  went  out,  and  soon  returned  with  a  letter  on  a  small  silver 
waiter. 

Whilst  her  attendant  completed  her  toilet,  Adrienne  opened  the 
letter,  which  was  from  the  land  -  steward  of  Cardoville,  and  as 
follows : — 

"  '  Mademoiselle, — Knowing  your  goodness  of  heart  and  generosity, 

I  take  leave  to  address  myself  to  you  with  confidence.  Fof  twenty  ye.irs 

I  served  the  late  Count-Duke  of  Cardoville,  your  father,  with  zeal  and 

probity :  I  think  I  may  say  so  much.     The  chateau  is  sold,  so  that  my 

16  » 


242  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

wife  and  myself  are  on  the  eve  of  being  turned  away,  and  shall 
be  without  any  resource ;  which,  at  our  age,  mademoiselle,  is  very 
hard ' 

"  Poor  creatures  ! "  said  Adrienne,  breaking  off ;  "  my  father  did 
always  say  how  devoted  and  honest  they  were." 

She  continued : 

"  '  We  have  one  means  left  of  keeping  our  place;  but  that  is  depend- 
ent on  a  degree  of  baseness  which  we  could  never  submit  to — my  wife 
and  I  would  rather  starve  first ' 

"  Capital  I  excellentl — always  the  same!"  said  Adrienne;  "dignity 
in  poverty  is  the  perfume  of  the  wild  flower." 

"  'To  explain,  mademoiselle,  the  unworthy  task  which  is  required 
of  us,  I  ought  first  to  tell  you  that,  two  days  ago,  M.  Rodin  arrived 
from  Paris ' 

"  Ah!  M.  Rodin!"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  again  inter- 
rupting herself;  "the  secretary  of  the  Abb6  d'Aigrigny!  I  am  not 
now  astonished  at  any  baseness  or  dark  intrigue.  Well,  to  go  on:" 

"  *  M.  Rodin  came  from  Paris  to  tell  us  that  the  estate  was  sold, 
and  that  we  might  still  retain  our  situations,  if  we  would  assist  him  in 
making  the  new  proprietress  take  for  her  confessor  a  certain  noted 
priest ;  and,  the  better  to  effect  this,  we  must  agree  to  calumniate  an- 
other curate,  a  most  excellent  man,  much  respected  and  beloved  in  the 
district.  This  was  not  all :  I  was  to  write  secretly,  twice  a-week,  all 
that  occurred  in  the  chateau.  I  must  own,  mademoiselle,  that  these 
disgraceful  propositions  were  disguised  as  much  as  possible,  and  con- 
cealed under  very  specious  pretexts ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  form  in  which 
they  were  more  or  less  skilfully  put,  the  real  meaning  was  just  as  I 
have  the  honour  to  inform  you,  mademoiselle ' 

"Corruption,  calumny,  and  treachery!"  said  Adrienne,  in  an 
accent  of  deep  disgust.  "  I  cannot  think  of  these  individuals  without 
awaking  involuntarily  in  my  mind  thoughts  of  darkness,  venom,  and 
black  atrocious  reptiles  —  they  are,  indeed,  hideous  in  their  aspect.  I 
prefer  to  think  of  the  mild  and  benignant  faces  of  poor  Dupont  and 
his  wife." 

Adrienne  continued : 

"  « Do  not  suppose,  mademoiselle,  that  we  hesitated  for  one  mo- 
ment. We  may  quit  Cardoville,  where  we  have  resided  for  twenty 
years,  but  we  will  leave  it  with  honour.  Now,  mademoiselle,  if, 
amongst  your  influential  acquaintances,  you,  who  are  so  good,  could 
procure  us  a  situation  by  your  recommendation,  we  might  perhaps, 
mademoiselle,  be  relieved  from  our  cruel  embarrassment ' 

"  Certainly,  they  shall  not  address  me  in  vain.  To  snatch  the 
good  people  from  M.  Rodin's  claws  is  a  duty  and  a  pleasure,  and  is 
both  just  and  dangerous;  but  I  like  to  brave  those  who  are  powerful 
and  oppressive." 

Adrienne  continued : 

"  '  After  having  spoken  to  you  of  ourselves,  mademoiselle,  allow 
us  to  implore  your  protection  for  others,  for  it  would  be  wrong  to 
think  of  ourselves  only.  Two  vessels  have  been  wrecked  on  our  coast 
three  days  ago  ;  a  few  passengers  only  were  saved,  and  brought  here, 
where  my  wife  and  myself  have  given  them  every  thing  that  their  im- 
mediate necessities  have  demanded.  Some  of  them  have  gone  on  to 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET.  243 

Paris ;  but  one  still  remains  here.  His  injuries  have  prevented  him, 
up  to  the  present  time,  from  leaving  the  chateau,  and  will  detain  him 
here  yet  some  days  longer.  He  is  a  young  Indian  prince,  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  he  appears  to  be  as  amiable  as  he  is  handsome,  which 
is  not  saying  a  little,  although  he  has  the  dark  complexion  which  all  his 
countrymen  have  also—' 

"  An  Indian  prince  I  Twenty  years  of  age !  Young,  good,  and 
handsome  ! "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  gaily.  "  That  is  charming,  and  de- 
cidedly out  of  the  common  way  :  this  shipwrecked  prince  has  my  ut- 
most sympathy.  But  what  can  I  do  for  this  Adonis  from  the  banks 
of  the  Ganges,  who  has  been  thrown  on  the  coast  of  Picardy  ?  " 

Adrienne's  three  women  looked  at  her  with  but  little  surprise,  ac- 
customed as  they  were  to  the  singularities  of  her  character.  Georgette 
and  Hebe  smiled  discreetly ;  Florine,  the  tall,  handsome,  pale  brunette, 
smiled  also,  but  a  moment  after,  and  it  would  seem,  upon  reflection, 
as  if  she  had  been  first  and  particularly  employed  in  attending  to  and 
recollecting  every  word  that  fell  from  her  mistress,  who  being  deeply 
interested  in  her  Adonis  from  the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  as  she  termed 
him,  continued  the  perusal  of  the  steward's  letter  : 

"  '  One  of  the  Indian  prince's  countrymen,  who  stayed  with  him  to 
take  care  of  him,  has  given  me  to  understand  that  the  young  prince 
lost  every  thing  he  possessed  in  the  world,  and  was  actually  at  a  loss 
for  the  means  to  reach  Paris,  where  his  immediate  presence  was  requi- 
site on  very  important  matters.  It  is  not  from  the  prince  himself  that 
I  had  these  details  —  he  appears  too  reserved  and  proud  to  make 
any  complaint  —  but  his  fellow-countryman,  more  communicative, 
told  me  all  this,  adding,  that  the  young  prince  had  already  undergone 
great  troubles,  and  that  his  father,  the  king  of  a  territory  in  India,  had 
been  recently  killed  and  dispossessed  by  the  English ' 

"  That  is  very  strange,"  said  Adrienne,  reflecting.  "  These  parti- 
culars remind  me  that  my  father  often  talked  to  me  of  a  relation  of 
ours  who  married  an  Indian,  a  king  of  that  country,  with  whom  Gene- 
ral Simon,  who  has  been  made  marshal,  took  service."  Then  inter- 
rupting herself  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "Oh!  how  strange  it  would 
be  !  — it  is  only  to  me  that  such  strange  things  happen,  and  they 
call  me  an  original :  it  is  not  I,  as  I  think,  but  in  reality  Providence, 
who  sometimes  produces  such  strange  things.  But  let  me  see  if  poor 
Dupont  has  given  me  the  name  of  this  handsome  prince." 

"  '  I  am  sure,  mademoiselle,  that  you  will  excuse  us  ;  but  we  should 
have  felt  that  we  were  very  selfish  in  mentioning  our  own  troubles 
only,  when  we  have  with  us  a  brave  and  worthy  young  prince  so  much 
to  be  pitied.  Pray,  mademoiselle,  believe  me,  for  I  am  old,  and  have 
had  great  experience  of  mankind,  and  I  assure  you,  that  you  have  only 
to  see  the  nobility  and  sweet  countenance  of  this  young  Indian,  and  I 
assure  you  that  you  would  at  once  feel  the  interest  which  I  entreat  you 
to  shew  for  him.  It  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  send  him  a  small  sum 
of  money  to  buy  him  some  European  clothing,  for  he  has  lost  his 
Indian  attire  in  the  shipwreck ' 

"  What !  European  clothing  ! "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  gaily.  "  Poor 
young  prince  I  Heaven  preserve  him  from  such,  and  me  also  !  Chance 
sends  me,  from  the  remote  parts  of  India,  a  mortal  so  favoured  as  never 
yet  to  have  worn  that  odious  European  costume,  those  hideous  habits, 


244  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

those  frightful  hats,  M'hich  make  men  so  ridiculous,  so  ugly,  that,  in  fact, 
there  is  no  virtue  in  not  finding  them  at  all  seducing  creatures.  Well, 
there  comes  a  handsome  young  prince  from  that  eastern  clime  where 
the  men  are  attired  in  silk,  muslin,  and  cachmere;  and,  most  certainly, 
I  will  not  lose  so  favourable  an  occasion  to  shew  no  European  clothing, 
whatever  poor  old  Dupont  may  say.  But  the  name!  the  name  of  this 
dear  prince  I  Again,  I  say,  how  singular,  if  it  should  prove  to  be  my 
cousin  from  beyond  the  Ganges !  I  have  heard,  in  my  childhood,  so 
much  to  the  advantage  of  his  royal  father,  that  I  should  be  delighted 
to  offer  his  good  son  a  worthy  reception.  But  the  name  !  the  name  ! 
I  want  the  name ! " 

Adrienne  continued : 

"  '  If,  in  addition  to  this  small  sum,  mademoiselle,  you  would  afford 
him  and  his  fellow-countryman  the  means  of  reaching  Paris,  you  would 
do  a  great  additional  service  to  this  poor  young  prince,  already  so  un- 
fortunate. I  know,  mademoiselle,  that  it  may,  most  probably,  please  you, 
in  your  consideration  of  delicacy,  to  send  this  succour  to  the  young 
prince  without  your  name  being  revealed,  and  should  this  be  the  case, 
I  beg  you  will  make  any  use  of  me  that  may  please  you,  and  rely  on 
my  discretion  ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  you  would  wish  to  send  to  him 
direct,  I  add  his  name,  as  it  was  written  for  me  by  his  fellow-country- 
man, Prince  Djalma,  son  of  Kadja-Sing,  King  of  Mundi.' 

"  Djalma  f"  said  Adrienne,  endeavouring  to  recall  certain  recol- 
lections. "Kadja-Sing!  Yes, 'tis  he! — those  are  the  names  my 
father  so  often  repeated,  when  he  told  me  that  nothing  in  the  world 
was  or  could  be  more  chivalrous,  more  heroic,  than  that  old  Indian 
king,  our  relation  by  marriage ;  and  it  does  not  appear  that  the  son 
has  deteriorated  from  the  sire.  Yes,  Djalma  !  Kadja-  Sing  !  —  yes, 
these  are  the  names — they  are  not  such  common  ones,"  she  said,  with 
a  smile,  "  that  one  could  forget  or  confound  them  with  others.  So, 
Djalma  is  my  cousin  !  He  is  brave  and  good,  young  and  charming, 
has  never  yet  worn  that  frightful  European  habit,  and  is  destitute  of 
every  resource.  Delightful !  it  is  too  great  happiness  at  once  !  Quick, 
quick  !  let  us  get  up  some  pretty  fairy  tale,  of  which  this  handsome 
Prince  Cheri  shall  be  the  hero.  Poor  bird  of  gold  and  silver  plum- 
age, wandering  in  our  sad  climate  ;  at  last  he  shall  find  here  some- 
thing to  remind  him  of  his  own  land  of  light  and  perfumes !  "  Then 
addressing  one  of  her  women, 

"  Georgette,  take  paper  and  write,  my  child  1 " 

The  young  girl  went  to  the  gilded  table,  where  there  were  writing 
materials,  and  said  (after  she  had  seated  herself)  to  her  mistress, 

"  I  await  mademoiselle's  instructions." 

Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  whose  lovely  face  was  radiant  with  joy, 
happiness,  and  mirth,  dictated  the  following  note,  addressed  to  a  wor- 
thy old  artist  who  had  long  taught  her  drawing  and  painting ;  for 
she  excelled  in  these  arts,  as  well  as  in  all  others : — 

"  '  My  dear  Titian,  my  good  Veronese,  my  worthy  Raphael, — 
You  can  do  me  an  immense  service,  and  I  know  you  will  do  it, 
with  that  entire  kindness  I  have  invariably  found  in  you.  You 
will  go  and  see  directly  the  learned  artist  who  designed  iny  last 
costumes  of  the  fifteenth  century.  I  want  now  some  modern  Indian 
costumes  for  a  young  man — yes,  a  young  man,  sir! — and,  as  far 


ADRIENNE'S  TOILET.  245 

as  I  believe,  you  may  take  his  measure  by  the  Antinous — or,  rather, 
the  Indian  Bacchu>  will  be  more  apropos. 

"  '  These  costumes  must  be  perfectly  correct,  very  rich,  and  parti- 
cularly elegant.  You  will  select  the  richest  materials  possible  that 
resemble  the  tissues  of  India;  and  add,  for  cummerbands  and  turbans, 
six  splendid  long  cachmere  shawls — two  white,  two  red,  and  two 
orange-colour:  nothing  suits  brown  skins  like  those  hues. 

"  '  Having  done  this  (and  I  can  only  allow  you  two  or  three  days 
to  complete  all)  you  will  start  in  my  travelling-carriage  for  the  Cha- 
teau de  Cardoville,  which  you  know  well.  There  the  steward,  the 
worthy  Dupont,  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours,  will  introduce  you  to  a 
young  Indian  prince,  whose  name  is  Djalma;  and  you  will  say  to  this 
high  and  mighty  signer  of  another  world  that  you  have,  come  from 
an  unknown  friend,  who,  acting  as  a  brother,  sends  him  what  is 
requisite  to  avoid  the  odious  fashions  of  Europe.  You  will  add,  that 
this  friend  awaits  him  with  so  much  impatience,  that  he  prays  him  to 
come  to  Paris  without  delay.  If  my  protege  object  because  he  is 
in  pain,  you  must  say  that  my  carriage  is  an  excellent  bed  ;  and  you 
will  arrange  the  couch  in  the  berline  as  conveniently  as  possible.  You 
must  be  careful  to  apologise,  on  the  part  of  the  unknown  friend,  for 
not  sending  to  the  prince  either  rich  palanquins  or  even  a  small 
elephant ;  for,  alas !  we  have  no  palanquins  but  at  the  opera,  and  no 
elephants  but  in  the  menagerie,  which  no  doubt  will  make  us  seem 
very  uncouth  savages  in  the  eyes  of  my  protege. 

"  '  As  soon  as  you  have  decided  on  setting  out,  you  must  travel 
with  all  speed,  and  bring  him  here  into  my  pavilion  in  the  Rue  de 
Babylone  (how  singular  for  him  to  live  in  the  RUE  DE  BABYLONE! 
— that  is  an  Eastern  name  for  him,  I  think).  Yes,  conduct  to  me  here 
the  dear  prince  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  in  the  land  of  flowers, 
diamonds,  and  sunshine. 

"  '  You  will,  moreover,  be  so  obliging,  my  dear  old  friend,  as  not  to 
be  surprised  at  this  new  whim  of  mine,  and  especially  not  to  indulge 
in  any  extravagant  conjecture.  Seriously,  the  choice  I  make  of  you 
in  this  circumstance — of  you,  whom  I  love  and  honour  sincerely — • 
M'ill  convince  you  that  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  there  is  more  than 
mere  folly.'  " 

Whilst  she  dictated  these  last  words,  Adrienne's  tone  was  as 
serious  and  elevated  as  it  had  before  been  pleasing  and  playful. 

But  she  speedily  reassumed  her  gay  tone. 

"  '  Adieu,  my  old  friend !  I  am  a  little  like  the  captain  of  the 
ancient  times,  whose  heroic  nose  and  conquering  chili  you  so  offen 
placed  before  me  as  models  :  I  joke  and  jest  most  freely  always  at  the 
moment  when  the  fight  begins — yes,  the  fight — for  in  another  hour  I 
shall  fight  a  battle,  a  serious  battle,  with  that  dear  devotee,  my  aunt. 
Fortunately  courage  and  daring  do  not  fail  me,  and  I  burn  to  engage 
in  action  with  the  austere  princess. 

"  '  Adieu  !  a  thousand  kind  and  hearty  souvenirs  to  your  good 
wife  I  If  I  speak  of  her — mind,  of  her  so  justly  respected — it  is  to 
assure  you  as  to  the  consequences  of  tins  carrying  off'  of  a  charming 
young  prince  on  my  behalf;  for  I  must  conclude  where  I  ought  to 
have  begun,  and  tell  you  that  he  is  charming. 

"  '  Again,  adieu  ! ' ' 


246  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Then,  addressing  Georgette, 

"  Have  you  done,  little  maiden  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Ah  !  the  postscript  I " 

"  « I  send  you  a  letter  of  credit  on  my  banker  for  all  expenses. 
Spare  nothing :  you  know  I  am  really  a  grand  signior.  I  am  com- 
pelled to  use  this  masculine  phrase,  which  you  men — tyrants  as  you 
are  —  have  exclusively  appropriated  as  expressive  of  noble  gene- 
rosity.' " 

"  Now,  Georgette,"  said  Adrienne,  "  bring  me  a  sheet  of  paper 
and  the  letter,  that  I  may  sign  it." 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  took  the  pen  which  Georgette  pre- 
sented to  her,  and  signed  the  letter  enclosing  an  order  on  her  banker, 
as  follows: — 

"  Pay  to  M.  Norval,  or  his  order,  the  sum  he  may  draw  for  his 
expenses  in  my  name.  "  ADRIENNE  DE  CARDOVILLE." 

During  the  whole  of  this  scene,  and  whilst  Georgette  was  writing, 
Florine  and  Hebe  had  continued  to  occupy  themselves  in  completing 
the  toilet  of  their  mistress,  who  had  taken  off  her  dressing-gown  and 
dressed  herself,  in  order  to  go  to  see  her  aunt. 

By  the  close,  undivided,  but  yet  concealed  attention  which  Florine 
paid  to  the  dictation  of  Adrienne's  letter  to  M.  Norval,  it  was  easy  to 
see  that,  according  to  her  custom,  she  was  endeavouring  to  retain 
every  word  that  fell  from  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville. 

"  My  little  one,"  said  mademoiselle  to  Hebe,  "  go  and  send  off 
this  letter  to  M.  Norval." 

Again  the  silver  bell  was  heard  without. 

Hebe  was  going  to  the  door  to  inquire  who  it  was,  and  execute 
her  mistress's  orders,  when  Florine  ran  before  her,  saying  to 
Adrienne, 

"  Will  mademoiselle  allow  me  to  carry  this  letter  ?  I  want  to  go 
to  the  large  house." 

"  Yes,  you  can  go.  Hebe,  see  who  is  at  the  door ;  and  Georgette, 
seal  this  letter." 

At  the  end  of  a  minute,  whilst  Georgette  was  sealing  the  letter, 
Hebe  returned. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  she  said,  as  she  returned,  "the  workman  who 
found  Lutine  yesterday  begs  to  see  you  for  an  instant :  he  looks  very 
pale  and  sorrowful." 

"  What,  does  he  want  me  already  ?  That  is  fortunate,"  said 
Adrienne,  in  a  mirthful  tone.  "  Tell  the  good,  honest  fellow,  I  will 
see  him,  and  shew  him  into  the  little  salon  ;  and,  Florine,  do  you  go 
and  send  this  letter  away  without  delay." 

Florine  went  out. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  followed  by  Lutine,  went  into  the 
little  salon,  where  Agricola  awaited  her. 


THE  INTERVIEW.  247 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 


THE  INTERVIEW. 

ADRIENNE  DE  CARDOVILLE  entered  the  salon,  in  which  Agricola 
awaited  her,  dressed  with  the  most  extreme  yet  elegant  simplicity.  A 
robe  of  dark  blue  kerseymere,  fitting  tightly  to  the  shape,  and  em- 
broidered down  the  front  with  broad  black  lacings,  according  to  the 
prevailing  mode  of  the  day,  admirably  displayed  her  nymph-like  figure 
and  finely  proportioned  bust;  a  small  square  cambric  collar  was  turned 
back  over  a  broad-checked  riband  tied  in  a  neat  rosette,  serving  at 
once  as  a  slight  substitute  for  a  throat  handkerchief,  and  giving  a 
suitable  finish  to  her  dress.  Her  magnificent  golden  hair  hung  down 
her  lovely  countenance  in  a  profusion  of  bright  glittering  ringlets, 
some  of  them  even  reaching  her  waist. 

Agricola,  the  better  to  elude  his  father's  suspicions,  and  to  confirm 
him  in  the  idea  of  his  being  really  obliged  to  go  to  the  manufactory 
for  M.  Hardy,  had  not  dared  to  dress  himself  in  any  but  his  working 
clothes  ;  the  only  difference  he  had  ventured  to  make  was  to  put  on  a 
new  blouse,  and  to  tie  a  black  silk  handkerchief  round  his  throat  to 
support  the  collar  of  a  shirt,  which,  if  coarse,  was  white  as  hands 
could  make  it;  his  large,  loose,  grey  trousers  displayed  boots  brightly 
polished,  while  his  muscular  hands  held  a  smart  and  new  cloth  cap :  in 
a  word,  this  blue  blouse,  embroidered  with  red,  which  allowed  such 
easy  play  to  the  broad  manly  chest  of  the  young  smith,  and  developed 
his  robust  shoulders,  falling  in  graceful  folds  round  his  youthful  yet 
athletic  figure,  far  from  detracting  from  his  naturally  frank,  pre- 
possessing appearance,  became  him  far  more  than  the  most  elaborate 
labours  of  the  tailor  or  hatter  could  have  done. 

Whilst  waiting  the  appearance  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
Agricola  mechanically  examined  a  magnificent  silver  vase  of  most  ex- 
quisite workmanship.  A  small  plate  of  the  same  metal,  attached  to  the 
marble  pedestal  on  which  the  vase  stood,  bore  these  words,  "  Sculp- 
tured by  Jean  Marie,  a  working  sculptor,  1834." 

Adrienne  had  stepped  so  lightly  over  the  carpet  of  the  apartment, 
which  was  only  separated  from  the  adjoining  one  by  folding  doors, 
which  opened  and  shut  without  the  least  sound,  that  Agricola  perceived 
not  her  approach ;  ho  started  and  turned  quickly  round,  as  a  sweet 
silvery  voice  just  behind  him  said, 

"  That  is  a  handsome  vase,  is  it  not?" 

"  It  is  indeed,  madame,"  answered  Agricola,  much  embarrassed. 

"  You  perceive  I  am  a  lover  of  justice,"  continued  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville,  pointing  to  the  small  silver  plate  ;  "  a  painter  affixes  his  name 
to  his  picture ;  an  author  subscribes  his  name  to  the  book  he  writes : 
why  then  should  not  a  workman  in  any  art  also  distinguish  the  pro- 
duct of  his  labours  in  like  manner?" 

"  And  this  name,  madame — 

"  Is  merely  that  of  a  poor  sculptor,  who  executed  the  work  for 
a  rich  goldsmith,  who,  when  he  sold  me  the  vase,  seemed  utterly 


243  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

at  a  loss  to  comprehend  my  whim ;  he  almost  hinted  my  injustice, 
when,  having  informed  me  the  name  of  the  person  who  really  pro- 
duced this  gem  (in  its  way)  I  insisted  that  the  name  of  the  workman, 
and  not  the  mere  seller,  should  be  affixed  to  the  pedestal.  If  the 
artisan  he  denied  riches,  he  should  at  least  be  permitted  to  enjoy 
the  fame  he  earns;  do  you  not  agree  with  me  ?" 

Had  Adrienne  tried  ever  so  hard,  she  could  not  better  have  selected 
a  subject  of  more  absorbing  interest  to  the  young  smith,  who,  recover- 
ing his  first  confusion,  replied, 

"  Being  myself  a  workman,  I  can  but  feel  doubly  touched  with  this 
act  of  justice  and  impartial  praise." 

"  That  being  the  case,  I  am,  indeed,  delighted  to  have  had  the 
present  opportunity  of  evincing  to  you  the  sincere  interest  I  take  in 
the  working  classes.     But  pray  be  seated ;"  and  with  an  affable  wave 
of  the  hand  she  pointed  to  an  arm-chair  of  purple  silk,  embroidered' 
with  gold,  seating  herself  upon  a  caustuse  of  the  same  material. 

Perceiving  the  returning  confusion  of  Agricola,  who  cast  down  his 
eyes  as  though  fearful  of  presuming  too  far,  should  he  accept  the 
gracious  permission  to  prolong  his  stay  by  taking  a  seat,  Adrienne  said 
gaily,  pointing  to  Lutine, 

"  This  poor  little  creature  will  always  be  a  living  source  of  grateful 
recollections  for  all  your  kindness,  and  I  accept  your  visit  to-day  as  a 
happy  omen  that  my  earnest  wishes  are  about  to  be  realised :  an  in- 
describable something  whispers  to  me  that  you  have  found  some  means 
by  which  I  can  be  serviceable  to  you." 

"  Madame,"  replied  Agricola  boldly,  "  my  name  is  Baudoin  ;  I  am 
a^working  smith,  in  the  employ  of  M.  Hardy,  at  Plessy,  near  Paris. 
Yesterday  you  offered  me  your  purse,  which  I  refused  ;  but  I  now 
come  to  ask  you  for  perhaps  ten,  twenty  times  the  sum  you  then 
proffered  me.  I  will  explain  myself  better  by  and  by,  as  to  what  I 
mean  ;  but  the  hardest  part  is  to  give  utterance  to  those  words,  which 
seem  to  scorch  my  lips  as  I  pronounce  them  :  but  they  are  spoken  now, 
and  I  feel  much  relieved." 

"  Be  assured,  I  both  respect  and  appreciate  the  delicacy  of  your 
scruples,"  said  Adrienne ;  "  but  had  you  known  me  better,  you  would 
have  felt  no  apprehension  in  applying  to  me.  What  sum  do  you  re- 
quire ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  mademoiselle." 

"  You  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,  I  am  so  entirely  ignorant  on  the  subject, 
that  1  have  not  only  come  to  request  you  will  generously  aid  me  with 
the  sum  I  need,  but  also  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  amount  I 
do  require  I " 

"  But,"  said  Adrienne,  smiling  good-naturedly,  "you  must  explain 
yourself  more  clearly  ;  for,  spite  of  my  readiness  to  serve  you,  you  have 
not  yet  told  me  in  what  way  I  can  best  do  so." 

"  Well,  then,  mademoiselle,  in  a  few  words,  this  is  precisely  the 
case :  I  have  a  dearly  loved  and  excellent  mother  now  falling  into 
years,  who,  in  her  youth,  ruined  her  health  by  excessive  labour  to 
maintain  and  educate  not  only  myself,  but  a  poor  deserted  child  she 
took  charge  of.  It  is  now  my  turn  to  work  for  and  support  her,  and, 
thanks  to  Providence,  I  have  been  happy  enough  to  do  so.  But  I 


THE  INTERVIEW.  249 

have  only  my  daily  work  to  depend  upon,  and  if  I  am  prevented  from 
attending  to  that,  my  poor  mother  will  be  left  destitute." 

"  Be  under  no  fears  for  your  mother,  she  can  never  want  while  I 
take  an  interest  in  her." 

"  And  do  you  interest  yourself  for  her,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  I" 

"  You  know  her,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  now  I  do  ! " 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  said  Agricola,  with  much  emotion,  and  after  a 
brief  silence,  "  I  understand  you.  Ah !  you  have  a  noble  heart ! 
La  Mayeux  was  right !  " 

"  La  Mayeux  ! ! "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  regarding  Agricola  with 
the  most  unfeigned  surprise,  for  these  words  were  quite  an  enigma  to 
her. 

The  young  artisan,  whose  mind  was  too  nobly  constituted  to  be 
capable  of  blushing  for  the  poverty  or  personal  disadvantages  of  his 
friends,  replied  stoutly, 

"  Mademoiselle,  .1  was  going  to  explain  that  La  Mayeux  is  the 
name  of  a  poor,  but  industrious  young  needlewoman,  with  whom  I  have 
been  brought  up ;  the  poor  girl  is  called  La  Mayeux  because  she  has 
the  misfortune  to  be  deformed,  so  that  you  may  easily  imagine  her 
place  in  this  world  is  as  low  and  humble  as  yours  is  great  and  elevated  ; 
but  for  noble  and  delicate  feelings — for  real  generosity  of  heart ! 
Ah,  mademoiselle!  there  I  am  sure  she  is  even  your  equal.  Ah!  if 
you  had  only  heard  how  quickly  she  understood  your  real  motives 
and  kindness  in  giving  me  that  beautiful  flower  yesterday  ! " 

"  I  assure  you,  monsieur,"  said  Adrienne,  sincerely  touched  by 
these  simple  phrases,  "  that  I  feel  more  flattered  and  honoured  by  the 
comparison  you  have  just  made,  than  in  the  highest  eulogium  you 
could  pronounce.  The  heart  which  remains  good  and  delicate  after 
the  long  endurance  of  heavy  troubles,  is  a  treasure  indeed  ! " 

"  It  is  as  easy,  with  youth  and  beauty  to  aid  us,  to  be  good  and 
amiable,  as  it  is  to  pass  for  generous  and  delicate-minded  when  we 
have  riches  at  our  command." 

"  I  accept  your  flattering  comparison,  but  upon  condition  that  you 
quickly  enable  me  to  prove  my  right  to  it.  Pray  continue  your  little 
history." 

Spite  of  the  gracious  affability  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  there 
was  in  her  whole  manner  so  much  of  that  natural  dignity  which  is 
always  associated  with  independence  of  character,  elevation  of  mind, 
and  nobleness  of  sentiment,  that  Agricola,  forgetting  the  extreme  loveli- 
ness of  his  protectress,  soon  felt  for  her  a  species  of  affectionate  and 
profound  respect,  singularly  opposed  to  the  age  and  vivacity  of  the 
young  creature  who  excited  it. 

"  Were  it  only  on  my  mother's  account,"  continued  Agricola,  "  I 
should  not  be  so  very  fearful  of  the  consequences  of  being  obliged  to 
leave  my  work,  because  poor  folks  always  help  each  other.  My 
mother  is  much  beloved  throughout  the  house  we  live  in,  and  our  kind 
and  worthy  neighbours  would  do  their  utmost  to  assist  her ;  but,  poor 
things !  they  have  nothing  to  spare,  and  they  must  take  from  their  own 
families  to  give  to  her ;  and  the  very  thoughts  of  such  a  thing  would 


250  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

grieve  my  dear  mother  far  more  than  wanting  herself.  But  it  is  not 
solely  for  her  I  require  to  keep  to  my  employment,  but  for  my  father 
also,  whom  we  have  not  seen  until  now  for  eighteen  years:  he  has  just 
returned  from  Siberia,  where  he  staid  out  of  devotion  to  his  old  general, 
note  Field-marshal  Simon." 

"  Marshal  Simon  I"  exclaimed  Adrienne,  eagerly,  and  with  great 
surprise. 

"  Do  you  know  him,  madame?" 

"  Not  personally  ;  but  he  married  a  branch  of  our  family." 

"  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  that !"  cried  the  smith.  "  Then  the 
two  young  ladies  my  father  brought  from  Russia  are  related  to  you  ?** 

"  Has  the  marshal  two  daughters  ?"  demanded  Adrienne,  becoming 
still  more  astonished  as  well  as  interested. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle  !  two  angelic  creatures  of  about  fifteen  or  six- 
teen years  of  age:  they  are  twins;  so  gentle  and  pretty,  and  so 
exactly  alike,  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  Their 
mother  died  in  exile,  and  the  little  she  possessed  having  been  confis- 
cated, they  have  journeyed  all  the  way  from  the  furthermost  part  of 
Siberia  in  the  most  humble  manner,  with  no  other  companion  than  my 
father,  who  tried  to  make  up  by  zeal  and  devotion  for  the  many  priva- 
tions they  were  compelled  to  endure.  And  he  was  as  tender  with 
them — ah !  madame,  you  would  scarcely  believe  the  tenderness  with 
which  my  brave  father  watched  over  them ;  you  would  hardly  think, 
to  look  at  him,  that,  with  the  courage  of  a  lion,  he  could  soften  himself 
down  to  the  gentleness  of  the  fondest  mother." 

"  And  where  are  these  dear  children  now?"  said  Adrienne. 

"  At  our  house,  mademoiselle ;  and  that  was  one  of  the  reasons 
which  rendered  my  situation  so  unfortunate  and  perplexing,  and  gave 
me  courage  to  lay  my  case  before  you.  It  is  not  that  I  fear  being  able 
by  my  daily  labour  to  provide  for  thn  wants  of  our  little  household, 
even  in  its  present  enlarged  state,  but  what  will  become  of  them  all  if 
I  am  arrested?" 

"Arrested?  you!  and  for  what?" 

"  Here,  mademoiselle,  have  the  goodness  to  read  this  letter,  which 
wa*  sent  to  La  Mayeux,  that  poor  deformed  girl  I  was  telling  you 
about ;  but  she  is  like  a  sister  to  me." 

So  saying,  Agricola  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville  the  anonymous  letter  received  by  the  young  sempstress. 

After  having  perused  it,  Adrienne  said  to  the  smith  with  sur- 
prise, "  So,  you  are  a  poet  it  seems ! " 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,"  answered  the  smith, "  I  have  neither  the  am- 
bition nor  presumption  to  aspire  to  that  title ;  but  when  I  go  home  to  my 
mother,  after  my  day's  toil  is  over,  or,  indeed,  sometimes  while  busy  at 
the  forge,  to  amuse  or  recreate  myself  I  sometimes  indulge  in  making 
a  few  rhymes,  an  ode  or  two,  or  may  be  a  song " 

"  And  this  '  Song  of  the  Working  Man,'  (C/iant  des  TravailUurs) 
which  is  alluded  to  in  the  letter,  is,  I  suppose,  of  a  dangerous  and 
seditious  description." 

"  Oh,  no,  mademoiselle  !  very  far  from  it :  for  I  have  the  good 
fortune  to  be  employed  by  M.  Hardy,  who  takes  delight  in  rendering 
his  workpeople  as  happy  as  others  do  the  reverse ;  and  I  merely  ven- 


THE  INTERVIEW.  251 

tured  to  make  a  warm,  candid,  and  just  appeal  in  favour  of  the  less 
fortunate  class  of  my  fellow-workmen — nothing  more,  I  assure  you.  But 
you  are  aware,  mademoiselle,  in  such  troubled  times  as  the  present, 
when  fresh  discontent  and  conspiracy  are  being  daily  detected,  the 
innocent  are  frequently  involved  in  their  consequences,  and  have,  at  the 
very  least,  a  short  imprisonment  to  undergo  before  they  can  be  cleared 
of  the  charge  made  against  them.  Now,  were  such  a  misfortune  to 
befall  me,  what  would  become  of  my  mother,  my  father,  or  the  two 
orphans,  whom  we  consider  as  part  of  the  family  until  the  return  of 
General  Simon  ?  So,  mademoiselle,  as  my  only  chance  of  escaping 
a  blow  that  would  bring  such  distress  and  misery  to  those  most  dear 
to  me,  I  have  presumed  to  ask  of  you  to  give  a  security  for  me, 
so  that  I  should  not  be  compelled  to  quit  the  workshop  for  a  prison, 
but  might,  in  perfect  security,  earn  all  that  would  be  requisite  for  our 
family's  support." 

"  Well,  Heaven  be  praised!"  replied  Adrienne,  gaily,  "yours  is  an 
affair  very  easily  arranged  I  Henceforward,  my  poetical  friend,  you 
shall  draw  your  inspirations  from  happiness,  not  sorrow,  which  forms 
but  an  ungenial  muse.  In  the  first  place,  the  security  you  require 
shall  be  lodged  in  the  proper  hands." 

"  Oh,  madamc  !  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  as  I  ought!  You  have 
saved  us  from  a  grief  you  can  form  no  idea  of." 

"  It  fortunately  happens  that  our  family  doctor  is  upon  most  inti- 
mate terms  with  a  very  important  minister  (form  what  conjectures  you 
may,  you  will  not  be  much  out) ;  now  the  doctor  I  speak  of  has 
extreme  influence  over  the  mind  of  this  great  statesman,  for  he  had 
the  happiness  of  recommending  to  him,  for  the  good  of  his  health,  to 
retire  to  the  delights  of  private  life  the  very  evening  preceding  the 
day  in  which  he  was  dismissed  from  his  place  in  the  government:  be, 
therefore,  quite  easy  on  the  subject,  and  if  the  security  be  not  deemed 
sufficient,  we  will  think  of  some  better  means." 

"  Madame  I"  exclaimed  Agricola,  with  deep  feeling  and  profound 
emotion,  "  I  shall  in  all  probability  owe  my  mother's  life  to  your 
goodness.  Believe  me,  nothing  shall  ever  make  me  forget  your  good- 
ness of  to-day." 

"  Nay,  I  beseech  you,  do  not  magnify  so  mere  a  trifle  !  Surely, 
it  is  but  fair,  those  who  have  too  much  should  be  permitted  to  help 
others  who  have  not  sufficient.  Another  thing  I  have  to  say  is,  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  are  my  relations,  and  shall  take  up  their 
abode  here  with  me, — it  will  be  more  fitting  for  all  parties.  Inform 
your  good  mother  of  this,  and  say  that,  when  I  come  this  evening 
to  thank  her  for  her  hospitality  towards  my  young  relatives,  I  will 
take  them  away  with  me." 

Suddenly  one  of  the  folding  doors  which  separated  the  salon  from 
the  adjoining  apartment  opened  abruptly,  and  Georgette,  pale  and 
trembling,  presented  herself. 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle !"  exclaimed  she,  "something  very  extraordinary 
is  going  on  in  the  street  I" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  explain  yourself  I" 

"  I  had  just  let  my  dressmaker  out  by  the  little  side-gate,  when  I 
fancied  I  saw  some  very  ill-looking  men  attentively  observing  the 


252  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

• 

walls  and  casements  of  the  little  building  adjoining  the  pavilion,  as 
though  they  were  watching  some  one." 

"  Madame,"  said  Agricola  dejectedly,  "  you  see  I  was  not  mistaken 
— 'tis  me  they  seek !" 

"  What  say  you  ?  " 

"I  imagined  I  was  watched  from  the  Rue  Saint-Merry  here  — 
there  is  now  no  further  doubt  on  the  subject.  They  saw  me  enter 
your  doors,  and  now  wish  to  arrest  me;  and  now  that  your  kind 
sympathy  is  awakened  for  my  mother,  and  that  I  have  nothing  to  fear 
for  the  daughters  of  General  Simon,  rather  than  be  the  cause  of 
the  slightest  annoyance  to  you  I  will  hasten  to  give  myself  up." 

"  Have  a  care  !"  said  Adrienne,  quickly;  "liberty  is  too  valuable 
to  be  abandoned  voluntarily :  besides,  Georgette  may  be  mistaken. 
However  it  may  be,  let  me  entreat  you  not  to  surrender  yourself;  take 
my  advice,  and  avoid  an  arrest.  You  will  by  so  doing  materially  aid 
the  steps  I  propose  to  take  to  ensure  your  safety,  and  it  has  always 
appeared  to  me,  that  Justice  invariably  seems  to  have  a  particular 
fancy  for  keeping  those  who  have  once  fallen  into  her  hands ! " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  Hebe,  also  entering  the  apartment  with  an 
alarmed  look  and  manner,  "a  man  has  just  knocked  at  the  little  gate; 
he  wants  to  know  whether  a  young  man  dressed  in  a  blue  blouse  did 
not  enter  a  little  while  ago  ?  He  says,  that  the  person  he  is  in  search 
of  is  named  Agricola  Baudoin,  and  that  he  has  something  of  great 
importance  to  communicate  to  him  !" 

"  That  is  my  name,  certainly, "  said  Agricola ;  "  but  the  rest  is  a 
subterfuge  to  induce  me  to  go  to  him." 

"  Evidently  !"  said  Adrienne ;  "  and  we  must  oppose  cunning  to 
cunning.  And  what  answer  did  you  make,  child?"  added  she, 
addressing  Florine.* 

"  Madame,  I  replied  that  1  knew  nothing  of  the  person  inquired 
for." 

"  Perfectly  right.     And  what  became  of  the  man  after  that  ?  " 

"  He  went  away,  madame  !" 

"  No  doubt  to  return  again  quickly,"  said  Agricola. 

"  That  is  very  probable,"  resumed  Adrienne ;  "  therefore  must 
you  resign  yourself  to  the  necessity  of  staying  here  a  few  hours.  I 
am,  unfortunately,  obliged  to  go  this  very  instant  to  attend  my  aunt, 
the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier,  upon  some  very  important  affairs,  for 
which  she  has  summoned  me  to  an  interview  it  is  quite  impossible  to 
put  off;  nor,  indeed,  have  I  the  least  wish  to  do  so,  as  the  unexpected 
intelligence  you  have  given  me  respecting  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon  makes  me  still  more  desirous  of  seeing  the  princess.  Remain 
here,  then,  I  charge  you ;  since  any  attempt  to  quit  the  place  would, 
I  am  convinced,  be  followed  by  your  immediate  arrest." 

"  Madame,  I  pray  you  to  pardon  my  refusal  of  your  kind  shelter  ; 
but,  again  I  repeat,  I  cannot — I  ought  not  to  accept  of  it." 

"  And  wherefore  ?  " 

"  The  men  who  feigned  having  a  message  to  deliver  to  me  had 
recourse  to  that  expedient,  doubtless,  to  draw  me  into  their  power,  in 

•  Query,  Hebe  1— English  Translator. 


THE  INTERVIEW.  253 

order  to  spare  the  necessity  of  commencing  a  legal  search  for  me 
on  your  premises  ;  but,  foiled  in  this,  be  assured,  madame,  unless  I  go 
forth  they  will  enter,  and  not  for  worlds  would  I  have  you  exposed  to 
such  indignity  :  besides,  since  I  have  nothing  to  fear  for  my  mother, 
why  should  1  care  for  a  prison?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  pain,  the  uneasiness,  the  terror,  your 
imprisonment  would  occasion  your  mother?  is  this  nothing?  And 
then  your  father,  and  the  poor  sempstress,  whom  you  love  as  a 
brother,  and  whose  heart  and  fineness  of  feeling  you  said  but  now 
resembled  mine,  will  you  forget  them  ?  Oh,  no  !  be  patient,  and 
you  will  spare  all  these  torments  to  those  you  love.  Stay  quietly, 
here  ;  and  before  evening  I  feel  quite  assured,  that,  either  by  giving 
the  necessary  guarantee,  or  by  other  means,  I  shall  be  able  to  free  you 
from  all  further  inquietude." 

"  But,  mademoiselle,  should  I  even  accept  your  generous  offer  it 
will  avail  me  little — I  shall  be  found  here." 

"  No,  you  will  not !  there  is  in  this  pavilion,  which  formerly  served 
for  many  strange  purposes,  a  hiding-place,  so  marvellously  contrived  as 
to  elude  the  most  diligent  research.  Georgette  will  conduct  you  to 
it.  You  will  find  it  a  very  comfortable  spot :  you  may  even  write 
some  of  your  best  verses  for  me,  should  the  situation  inspire  you." 

"What  kindness!"  exclaimed  Agricola.  "How  can  I  ever  hope 
to  return  it !  How  can  I  ever  have  merited " 

"  How  have  you  merited  it  ?  "  interrupted  Adrienne  ;  "  I  will  tell 
you.  Admit,  that  neither  by  your  excellent  character  nor  present 
position  you  had  power  to  interest  me — admit,  also,  that  I  have  not 
contracted  a  sacred  debt  to  your  father,  for  the  tender  and  assiduous 
cares  bestowed  on  the  children  of  General  Simon,  my  relation  ;  but 
think,  at  least,  of  Lutine — of  dear,  pretty  Lutine,"  said  Adrienne, 
pointing,  smilingly,  to  the  little  animal,  "  whom  you  restored  to  my  fond 
atioction.  But,  seriously,  if  I  seem  to  treat  the  matter  lightly,"  con- 
tinued this  strange  and  wild  being,  "  it  is  because  I  know  that  there 
exists  not  the  least  danger  for  you,  and  because  my  spirits  are  unusually 
high  to-day  ;  indeed,  I  know  not  when  I  have  felt  so  happy.  Now, 
then,  monsieur,  write  your  name  and  address,  with  that  of  your  mother, 
in  this  pocket-book,  and  be  as  quick  as  possible.  Then,  follow 
Georgette;  and  be  sure  to  write  me  some  very  pretty  verses,  if,  indeed, 
you  do  not  feel  too  tired  of  your  confinement,  which,  remember,  will 
save  you  from  a  prison." 

While  Georgette  conducted  the  smith  to  his  hiding-place,  Hebe 
brought  her  mistress  a  small  grey  beaver  hat  and  feathers,  for 
Adrienne  had  to  cross  the  park  to  arrive  at  the  grand  hotel  occu- 
pied by  the  Princess  dc  Saint-Dizier. 


A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  this  scene,  Florine  entered  mysteriously 
into  the  chamber  of  Madame  Grivoise,  principal  attendant  on  the 
Princess  dc  Saint-Dizier. 

"  Well  ?"  inquired  Madame  Grivoise  of  the  young  girl. 

'-Here  are  the  notes  I  have  taken  this  morning,"  said  Florine, 
giving  a  paper  to  the  duenna ;  "  fortunately,  I  have  a  good  memory." 


254  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  At  what  o'clock,  precisely,  did  she  come  in  this  morning  ?  "  said 
the  duenna. 

"Who,  madame?" 

••  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  1" 

'•  She  has  not  been  out,  madame ;  we  attended  upon  her  at  nine 
o'clock,  when  she  took  her  bath." 

••  Well,  then,  she  must  have  returned  before  nine  o'clock,  after 
being  out  all  night ;  for,  most  certainly  she  did  re-enter  these  walls 
at  an  early  hour,  evidently  after  having  been  abroad  all  night." 

Florine  regarded  Madame  Grivoise  with  the  utmost  astonishment. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  madame  I " 

"  Will  you  venture  to  assert  that  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  did  not 
enter  the  park  this  morning,  about  eight  o'clock,  by  the  little  side- 
gate  ?  Will  you  dare  to  utter  such  a  falsehood  ?  " 

"  I  had  been  very  poorly  all  yesterday,  madame,  and  did  not  quit 
my  bed  till  nine  o'clock  this  morning,  when  I  assisted  Georgette  and 
Hebe  to  attend  upon  mademoiselle  at  her  bath.  I  assure  you,  most 
solemnly,  madame,  that  I  am  utterly  ignorant  of  whatever  might  have 
occurred  previously." 

"  That  alters  the  case.  Well,  then,  be  sure  to  inquire  the  par- 
ticulars of  what  I  have  just  mentioned  of  your  two  companions,  who, 
having  no  mistrust  of  you,  will  tell  you  every  thing  you  wish  to 
know." 

"  I  will,  madame  ! " 

"  What  has  mademoiselle  been  doing  this  morning  since  you  have 
been  in  attendance  on  her  ?" 

"  Mademoiselle  dictated  a  letter  to  M.  Norval,  which  Georgette 
wrote,  and  I  asked  leave  to  take  charge  of  it,  in  order  to  obtain  a 
pretext  for  leaving  the  house,  and  also  for  noting  down  what  I  had 
observed." 

"  Good !  and  where  is  this  letter  ?  " 

"  Jerome  has  just  gone  out  with  it.  I  gave  it  to  him  to  put  into 
the  post." 

"  You  stupid  girl  1"  exclaimed  Madame  Grivoise,  "  why  could  you 
not  have  brought  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  As  mademoiselle  dictated  her  letter,  according  to  custom,  in  a 
loud  voice,  that  Georgette  might  hear  the  better,  I  knew  the  contents 
of  it,  and  have  written  them  in  my  paper  here." 

"  That  is  not  the  same  thing — it  is  probable  that  it  would  have 
been  desirable  to  keep  back  that  letter  altogether :  the  princess  will  be 
very  vexed  about  it." 

"  I  thought  I  was  acting  rightly  !" 

"Bless  me  !  I  know  well  enough  you  don't  want  for  good-will, 
and,  during  the  six  months  you  have  been  here,  you  have  given  entire 
satisfaction ;  but  you  have  committed  an  act  of  great  indiscretion  this 
time  1 " 

"  Pray,  excuse  it,  madame ;  believe  me,  what  I  do  is  painful 
enough  to  me  I"  And,  so  saying,  the  young  girl  stifled  a  rising  sob. 

Madame  Grivoise  surveyed  her  a  few  instants  with  a  fixed  gaze, 
then  added,  in  a  cool,  sarcastic  tone, 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear,  if  your  scruples  stand  in  the  way,  your  best 


THE  INTERVIEW.  255 

plan  is  to  quit  your  post :  you  are  free  to  go  whenever  you  please — be 
assured  you  can  very  well  be  spared." 

"You  know,  madame,  perfectly  well,  that  I  am  not  free,"  said 
Florine  blushing.  Tears  rose  to  her  eyes  as  she  added,  "I  am  under 
the  directions  and  control  of  M.  Rodin,  who  placed  me  here." 

"  Then  what  is  the  use  of  all  these  sighs  and  regrets  ?" 

"  Spite  of  myself,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  remorse.  Made- 
moiselle is  so  kind,  so  good,  so  confiding." 

"  Oh,  she  is  perfection,  no  doubt !  but  you  have  something  else  to 
do,  than  to  ring  her  praises  in  my  ears  !  What  did  she  after  con- 
cluding her  letter?" 

"The  young  artisan  who  found  Lutine,  and  brought  her  back 
yesterday,  came  to  ask  to  speak  with  mademoiselle." 

"  Is  he  still  with  her?" 

"I  do  not  know;  he  went  in  just  as  I  was  coming  out  with  the 
letter." 

"You  must  contrive  to  find  out  what  this  person  wanted  with 
mademoiselle." 

"  I  will,  madame  I" 

"  Does  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  appear  particularly  thoughtful, 
uneasy,  or  alarmed,  at  the  prospect  of  her  approaching  interview  with 
the  princess  ?  She  takes  so  little  trouble  to  conceal  her  thoughts 
that  you  cannot  help  knowing." 

"  Mademoiselle  appeared  as  gay  as  usual,  and  even  indulged  in 
several  jokes." 

"  Ah  I  she  jokes,  does  she?"  said  the  duenna ;  adding,  between 
her  clenched  teeth,  but  in  a  tone  so  low  that  Florine  could  not  catch 
it,  "  Those  laugh  best  who  laugh  last !  Yes,  spite  of  her  hardihood, 
and  her  diabolical  disposition,  she  would  tremble  and  implore  mercy, 
did  she  but  know  what  this  day  awaits  her." 

Then  addressing  herself  to  Florine,  she  said, 

"  Return  to  the  pavilion,  and  avoid  these  fine  scruples  with  which 
you  are  troubled,  or  they  may  one  day  play  you  a  trick  you  don't 
expect.  Now  go,  and  remember  what  I  say." 

"  I  can  never  forget,  madame,  that  I  belong  to  M.  Rodin  I" 

"  That  will  do.     Now  depart  for  the  present." 

Florine  quitted  the  grand  hotel,  and  crossing  the  park  regained 
the  pavilion. 

Madame  Grivoise  immediately  repaired  to  the  Princess  de  Saint- 
Dizier. 


256  THE  WANDERIKG  JEW. 

PART  IV. 

HOTEL    DE    SAINT-DIZIER. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  JESUITESS. 

WHILST  the  preceding  scenes  were  passing  in  the  Pompadour 
Temple,  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  other  events  oc- 
curred in  the  large  hotel  occupied  by  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier. 

The  elegance  and  magnificence  of  the  pavilion  in  the  garden  con- 
trasted strangely  with  the  sombre  interior  of  the  hotel,  the  first-floor 
of  which  was  inhabited  by  the  princess ;  for  the  arrangements  of  the 
ground-floor  were  sucli  that  it  was  only  suited  for  fetes,  and  for  a  long 
time  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  renounced  all  worldly  splendours, 
and  the  gravity  of  her  domestics,  all  aged  and  dressed  in  black,  the 
deep  silence  that  reigned  in  the  house,  where  every  body  seemed  to  talk 
in  a  whisper,  and  the  almost  monastic  regularity  of  this  immense  man- 
sion, gave  to  the  whole  establishment  of  the  princess  a  dull  and  severe 
character. 

A  man  of  the  world,  who  united  to  high  courage  a  remarkable 
independence  of  character,  speaking  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier, 
(with  whom  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  going,  as  she  wrote,  tojight  a 
great  battle),  said, 

"  That  I  might  not  have  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  for  my  enemy, 
I,  who  am  neither  a  fool  nor  a  coward,  have,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  committed  an  act  of  folly  and  cowardice." 

And  this  man  spoke  sincerely. 

But  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  not  all  at  once  reached  this  high 
degree  of  importance. 

A  few  words  are  necessary,  in  order  that  we  may  clearly  explain 
many  phases  of  the  life  of  this  dangerous,  implacable  woman,  who,  by 
her  affiliation  to  THE  ORDER,  had  acquired  a  secret  and  formidable 
power;  for  there  is  something  still  more  to  be  dreaded  than  a  Jesuit, 
and  that  is  a  Jesuitess ;  and  when  a  certain  class  are  scrutinised,  we 
learn  that  unhappily  there  exist  many  of  these  "affiliated"  of  the 
gown  more  or  less  short.* 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  who  in  her  youth  was  a  splendid  woman, 
had  been  during  the  latter  years  of  the  Empire,  and  the  early  years  of 
the  Restoration,  one  of  the  most  fashionable  women  of  Paris,  with  a 
stirring,  energetic,  dashing,  domineering  spirit — a  cold  heart  with  a 

•  The  lay  members  of  the  order  are  termed  Jesuits  of  the  Short  GOVCH 
(Robe  Ccurte). 


A  JESUITESS.  257 

warm  imagination  ;  she  had  been  much  devoted  to  gallantry,  not 
through  tenderness  of  feeling,  but  from  love  of  intrigue,  loving  as  men 
love  play — from  the  excitement  it  produces. 

Unfortunately,  such  had  been  the  constant  blindness  and  carelessness 
of  her  husband,  the  Prince  de  Saint-Dizier,  (eldest  brother  of  the 
Comte  de  Rennepont,  Duke  de  Cardoville,  Adrienne's  father)  that 
during  his  life  he  never  said  a  word  which  could  be  interpreted  into  a 
suspicion  of  his  wife's  gaieties. 

Thus  doubtless,  not  finding  enough  difficulties  in  her  amours, 
which  were  besides  so  very  little  thought  of  during  the  Empire,  the 
princess,  without  renouncing  her  course  of  life,  and,  fancying  that  it 
would  throw  a  little  more  relish  and  freshness  into  her  cup  of  pleasure, 
resolved  to  ally  with  it  the  zest  of  political  intrigue. 

To  attack  Napoleon,  to  dig  a  mine  under  the  feet  of  Colossus, 
would,  at  least,  promise  sensations  capable  of  satisfying  the  most 
exacting  character. 

For  some  time  all  went  on  marvellously  well ;  handsome  and  witty, 
skilful  and  treacherous,  seductive  and  perfidious,  surrounded  by 
adorers  whom  she  excited  to  fanaticism,  mingling  a  kind  of  ferocious 
coquetry  in  leading  men  on  to  risk  their  heads  in  serious  conspiracies, 
the  princess  hoped  to  revive  the  Fronde,  and  had  a  secret  correspond- 
ence, which  she  carried  on  most  vigorously  with  several  personages  of 
great  foreign  influence,  and  well  known  for  their  hatred  to  the  Em- 
peror and  France.  It  was  this  that  led  to  her  first  epistolary  relations 
with  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  then  a  colonel  in  the  Russian  service, 
and  aide-de-camp  of  Moreau. 

But  one  day  all  these  fine  plots*  were  discovered,  and  several  of 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier's  cavaliers  were  sent  to  Vincennes,  and  the 
Emperor,  who  might  have  taken  a  terrible  revenge,  contented  himself 
with  exiling  the  princess  to  one  of  her  estates  near  Dunkirk. 

At  the  Restoration,  the  persecutions  which  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  had  suffered  for  the  good  cause  were  of  service  to  her,  and  she 
even  acquired  considerable  influence  in  spite  of  the  levity  of  her 
conduct. 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  having  taken  service  in  France,  had  esta- 
blished himself  there.  He  was  a  fascinating  person,  and  soon  became 
the  fashion ;  and  as  he  had  corresponded  and  conspired  with  the 
princess  without  knowing  her,  these  circumstances  necessarily  led  to  a 
luiison  between  them. 

Unbridled  selfishness,  a  desire  for  the  excess  of  pleasure,  intense 
hatred,  strong  love  of  pride  and  despotism,  and  that  base  sympathy 
whose  treacherous  attraction  brings  together  the  most  perverse;  dispo- 
sitions without  blending  them,  had  made  of  the  princess  and  the  mar- 
quis rather  two  accomplices  than  two  lovers. 

This  union,  based  on  egotistical  and  hateful  feelings,  in  the  fearful 
support  which  two  characters  of  this  dangerous  stamp  could  lend 
eacli  other  against  a  world  in  which  their  spirit  of  intrigue,  gallantry, 
and  slander  had  made  them  many  enemies — this  liaison  had  lasted  up 
to  the  period  when,  after  his  duel  with  General  Simon,  the  marquis 
had  entered  the  Seminary,  although  the  motive  of  his  sudden  resolu- 
tion was  disclosed  to  no  one. 

The  princess  not  having  heard  the  hour  of  conversion  yet  strike  for 
17  s 


258  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

her,  continued  her  worldly  course  with  a  fierce,  jealous,  hateful  ardour, 
for  she  found  her  best  years  had  passed  away.  The  following  fact 
will  shew  this  woman's  character:  — 

Still  agreeable,  she  resolved  to  conclude  her  worldly  career  by  a 
great  and  final  triumph,  just  as  a  celebrated  actress  retires  from  the 
stage  whilst  she  still  charms,  in  order  to  cause  regrets  for  her  de- 
parture. Desirous  of  giving  this  last  consolation  to  her  vanity,  the 
princess  selected  her  victims  skilfully.  She  threw  her  eyes  on  a  young 
couple,  who  idolised  each  other,  and,  by  dint  of  cunning  and  manage- 
ment, she  carried  off  the  lover  from  his  mistress,  a  lovely  creature  of 
eighteen,  who  adored  him. 

Having  assured  this  success,  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  quitted  the 
world  with  all  the  eclat  of  her  triumph.  After  many  lengthened  con- 
ferences with  the  Abb6  Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  then  a  famous  preacher, 
she  quitted  Paris  abruptly,  and  went  to  spend  two  years  on  her  estate 
near  Dunkirk,  taking  with  her  only  one  of  her  attendants,  Madame 
Grivois. 

When  the  princess  returned  no  one  could  recognise  the  woman 
once  so  frivolous,  gay,  and  dissipated.  The  metamorphosis  was  com- 
plete, extraordinary,  almost  fearful.  The  Hotel  Saint-Dizier,  formerly 
open  to  liveliness,  fetes,  pleasures,  became  silent  and  austere.  In- 
stead of  what  is  called  the  elegant  world,  the  princess  only  received  at 
her  abode  females  celebrated  for  their  piety,  men  of  importance,  noted 
for  the  extreme  severity  of  their  religious  and  monarchical  principles. 
She  surrounded  herself  particularly  with  certain  distinguished  members 
of  the  upper  clergy ;  a  congregation  of  females  was  placed  under  her 
patronage,  and  she  had  her  confessor,  chapel,  almoner,  and  even  di- 
rector, but  this  latter  was  only  in  partibus.  The  Marquis  Abbe 
d'Aigrigny  remained  really  her  spiritual  guide.  It  is,  perhaps,  unne- 
cessary to  say,  that  for  a  long  time  all  other  liaison  had  ceased  between 
them. 

The  sudden  conversion,  so  complete  and  so  very  much  talked  about, 
struck  vast  numbers  with  admiration  and  respect ;  a  few,  more  pene- 
trating, smiled. 

One  example  amongst  a  thousand  will  testify  the  frightful  power 
which  the  princess  had  acquired  since  her  affiliation,  and  it  will  also 
prove  the  undermining,  revengeful,  and  pitiless  character  of  the  woman 
whom  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  so  rashly  desirous  to  brave. 

Amongst  the  persons  who  smiled,  more  or  loss,  at  the  conversion 
of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  were  the  young  and  charming  couple  whom 
she  had  so  cruelly  severed  before  she  proudly  quitted  the  scene  of  her 
worldly  gallantries.  They  both,  more  in  love  than  ever,  had  again 
come  together,  after  the  passing  storm  that  had  separated  them  for  a 
time,  confining  their  vengeance  to  some  lively  pleasantries  on  the  con- 
version of  the  woman  who  had  worked  them  so  much  ill. 

Some  time  afterwards  a  terrible  fatality  weighed  down  the  two 
lovers. 

A  husband,  until  then  blind,  was  suddenly  enlightened  by  anony- 
mous revelations.  A  fearful  discovery  followed.  The  young  lady 
was  lost. 

As  to  the  lover,  vague  report",  not  established,  but  full  of  conceal- 
ments, perfidiously  managed,  and  a  thousand  times  more  odious  than  a 


A  JSSUITBSS.  259 

distinct  accusation  which  can  at  once  be  established  or  destroyed,  were 
spread  abroad  about  him  with  so  much  pertinacity,  such  deep  cunning, 
and  in  so  many  different  ways,  that  his  best  friends  left  him,  one  after 
the  other,  submitting,  almost  unconsciously,  to  the  slow  and  irresistible 
influence  of  that  incessant  and  confused  whispering  which  resolves  itself 
into  something  like  this  :  — 

"  Well !  you  know  *  *  *  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  they  do  say  very  unpleasant  things  about  him." 

"  Really  ! — and  what  sort  of  things  ?  " 

"  I  can't  precisely  say,  but  there  are  very  nasty  stories  afloat — 
rumours  which  sadly  affect  his  honour." 

"  The  devil  there  are  ! — that's  bad  indeed  !  That  explains  why  he 
has  been  received  so  coolly  every  where,  lately." 

"  For  my  part,  I  intend,  in  future,  to  cut  him." 

"  And  so  shall  I,"  &c.  &c. 

This  world  is  so  formed  that  it  often  requires  no  more  than  this  to 
destroy  a  man,  whose  great  success  has  created  envy.  And  so  it  was 
with  the  man  of  whom  we  speak.  The  unfortunate  gentleman,  seeing 
the  gap  that  was  forming  around  him,  and  feeling  the  ground  giving 
way  beneath  his  feet,  did  not  know  which  way  to  seek,  or  how  to  lay 
hands  on  the  invisible  enemy  whose  blows  he  felt,  for  he  never  sus- 
pected the  princess,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  his  adventure  with 
her.  Desirous,  at  any  sacrifice,  to  know  the  source  of  this  neglect  and 
contempt,  he  addressed  himself  to  an  old  friend,  who  answered  him  in 
a  manner  which  was  scornfully  evasive ;  the  other  took  fire,  and  de- 
manded satisfaction.  His  adversary  said  to  him, — 

"  Find  two  seconds,  acquaintances  of  yours  and  mine,  and  I  will 
go  out  with  you." 

The  unhappy  man  could  not  find  one. 

At  last,  forsaken  by  all,  and  unable  to  obtain  any  clue  to  this  con- 
duct, suffering  immensely  from  the  fate  of  his-wife,  who  was  lost  to 
him,  he  went  mad  with  rage,  anguish,  and  despair,  and  ended  his 
existence. 

On  the  day  of  his  death,  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  said  that  such  a 
life,  so  shameless,  ought  to  have  such  an  end  ;  that  he  who  for  so  long  a 
time  had  sported  with  all  laws,  human  and  divine,  could  only  terminate 
his  miserable  existence  by  the  last  crime — suicide !  And  Madame  de 
Saint-Dizier's  friends  repeated  and  carried  about  these  terrible  words 
with  an  air  contrite,  pious,  and  full  of  conviction.  This  was  not  all: 
hand  in  hand  with  the  chastisement  came  the  recompense. 

Persons  who  remarked  could  not  help  seeing  that  the  favourites  of 
the  religious  coterie  of  Madame  dc  Saint-Dizier  reached  high  positions 
with  singular  rapidity.  Virtuous  young  men,  religiously  attentive  to 
the  duties  laid  down  by  the  curates,  were  wedded  to  young  rich 
orphans  of  the  "  Sacred  Heart,"  who  were  reserved  as  such  rewards ; 
poor  young  girls,  who,  too  late,  learned  what  a  devotee  husband  really 
is,  when  selected  and  imposed  upon  them,  and  expiating  in  bitter  tears 
the  deceitful  favour  of  being  admitted  into  a  false  and  hypocritical 
world,  in  which  they  were  alone  and  helpless,  and  which  would  crush 
them  if  they  dared  to  complain  of  the  union  to  which  they  had  been 
sentenced. 


260  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

In  the  saloons  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  there  were  made  pre» 
fects,  colonels,  receivers-general,  deputies,  academicians,  bishops,  peers 
of  France,  from  whom,  in  return  for  the  vast  influence  used  in  their 
behalf,  was  only  required  unremitting  support  on  all  points  affecting 
the  Order  ;  to  communicate,  and  sometimes  in  public  ;  to  swear  an  un- 
relenting war  with  every  thing  that  was  impious  or  revolutionary  ;  and, 
above  all,  to  correspond  confidentially  on  different  subjects  of  their 
choice  with  the  Abb6  d'Aigrigny  ;  which  was  a  very  agreeable  amuse- 
ment, for  the  abbe  was  the  most  amiable,  most  witty,  and,  above  all, 
the  most  accommodating  man  in  the  world. 

By  the  way,  we  will  give  an  historical  fact,  which  only  required 
the  fitter  revenging  irony  of  Moliere  or  Pascal.  It  occurred  during 
the  last  year  of  the  Restoration.  One  of  the  high  dignitaries  of  the 
court,  a  firm  and  independent  man,  did  not  practise,  as  the  good 
fathers  term  it — that  is  to  say,  did  not  take  the  holy  communion.  This 
neglect,  when  considered  relatively  to  his  high  position,  might  cause 
injury,  by  its  bad  example ;  and  the  Abbe  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  was 
despatched  to  him.  He,  knowing  the  lofty  and  honourable  mind  of 
the  recusant,  felt  that,  if  by  any  means  he  could  induce  him  to  prac- 
tise, the  effect  would  be  most  profitable,  went  to  work  like  a  man  of 
worldly  wisdom,  and  knowing  whom  he  was  addressing  made  but 
very  light  of  the  dogma,  the  religious  act  and  fact  itself,  but  insisted 
strongly  on  the  compliance  with  custom  the  salutary  example  which 
such  a  step  must  produce  on  the  public  mind. 

"  Monsieur  1'Abbe,"  said  the  individual  applied  to,  "  I  have  a 
higher  respect  for  religion  than  you  yourself  have,  and  I  should  think 
it  an  infamous  juggle  to  communicate  without  conviction." 

"  Oh  come,  come,  unbending  man,  frowning  Alcestis  !  "  said  the 
Marquis  Abbe,  with  a  crafty  smile,  "  we  will  reconcile  your  scruples 
and  the  profit  you  will  derive,  be  assured,  from  complying  with  my 
advice.  We  will  arrange  for  you  a  BLANK  COMMUNION  (tine  commu- 
nion blanche) ;  for,  after  all,  what  is  it  we  ask  ? — but  the  appearance 
of  the  thing." 

Now  a  communion  blanche  is  when  the  host  has  not  been  conse- 
crated. 

The  Abbe  Marquis  was  repulsed  with  indignation ;  but  the  dig- 
nitary was  dismissed  from  his  post. 

And  this  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  case.  Evil  to  those  who 
opposed  themselves  to  the  principles  and  interests  of  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  and  her  friends !  sooner  or  later,  directly  or  indirectly,  they 
were  hit  in  the  most  cruel  way — some  in  their  credit,  some  in  their 
dearest  relations  ;  others  in  their  honour,  others  in  the  official  situa- 
tions in  which  they  lived,  and  that  by  some  silent,  concealed,  perpetual 
action — by  some  terrible  and  mysterious  dissolvent,  which,  unseen, 
undermined  reputation,  fortune,  position  the  most  solidly  based,  up  to 
the  very  moment  w  hen  they  were  suddenly  and  for  ever  destroyed,  in 
the  midst  of  general  surprise  and  alarm. 

We  may  now  understand  how,  under  the  Restoration,  the  Princess 
de  Saint-Dizier  became  singularly  powerful  and  dreaded.  At  the 
revolution  of  July  she  formed  a  fresh  system  of  alliance,  and,  strange 
to  say,  still  preserving  those  connexions  of  family  and  society  with 
several  persons  very  faithful  to  the  worship  of  the  fallen  monarchy, 


THE    LETTER. 
P.  Ml. 


riia|>in.in  ;i!i  I  Hall.     Maivh  1. 


MADAME    DE    SAINT-UIZ1EK. 
P.   Ml. 


London:   Chmj.man  and  11*11       \Uv  15. 


A  JESUITESS.  261 

still  more  influence  and  power  were  attributed  to  her.  Let  us  say, 
too,  that  the  Prince  de  Saint-Dizier  dying  childless  several  years 
before,  his  personal  fortune,  which  was  very  considerable,  returned  to 
his  younger  brother,  the  father  of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville,  who  had 
died  eighteen  months  since,  leaving  his  young  daughter  the  last  and 
only  representative  of  this  branch  of  the  Rennepont  family. 

The  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  was  awaiting  her  niece  in  a  large 
saloon  hung  with  dark-green  damask;  and  the  furniture,  covered  in 
the  same  way,  was  of  carved  ebony,  as  was  also  a  bookcase  piled  with 
pious  productions. 

Some  sacred  paintings  and  a  large  crucifix  of  ivory,  on  a  black 
velvet  ground,  combined  to  give  this  apartment  a  dull  and  conventual 
appearance. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  seated  before  a  large  desk,  was  sealing 
several  letters,  for  she  had  a  very  extensive  and  varied  correspondence. 
Though  about  forty-five  years  of  age,  she  was  still  handsome ;  years 
had  enlarged  her  figure,  which  had  been  remarkably  elegant,  and  was 
yet  advantageously  displayed  under  her  high  black  gown.  Her  cap 
was  very  simple,  and,  ornamented  with  grey  ribands,  displayed  her 
light-brown  hair  plaited  in  thick  bandeaux. 

The  first  look  of  her  simple  and  dignified  air  was  very  striking j 
and  in  vain  was  it  to  seek  in  this  countenance,  then  full  of  regret  and 
composure,  any  trace  of  the  agitation  of  her  past  life.  To  see  her  so. 
grave  and  reserved,  no  one  could  believe  her  to  be  the  heroine  of  so 
many  intrigues,  so  many  tender  adventures ;  and  the  more  so,  if  by 
chance  she  heard  any  remark  that  trenched  on  levity,  this  woman's 
face  (who  had  persuaded  herself  that  she  had  become  a  mother  of  the 
church)  expressed  a  real  and  painful  astonishment,  which  soon  became 
an  air  of  offended  chastity  and  scornful  pity. 

However,  when  it  was  necessary,  the  smile  of  the  princess  was  still 
full  of  grace,  and  even  of  seducing  and  irresistible  kindness.  Her  full 
blue  eye  could,  on  occasion,  beam  affectionately  and  encouragingly  ; 
but  if  her  pride  was  offended,  or  any  one  dared  to  cross  her  will  or 
injure  her  interests,  and  she  could  without  fear  of  compromise  allow 
her  resentment  full  scope,  then  her  face,  habitually  placid  and  serious, 
betrayed  a  cold  and  implacable  wickedness. 

At  this  moment  Madame  Grivois  entered  the  cabinet  of  the  prin- 
cess, holding  in  her  hand  the  report  which  Florine  had  given  her 
respecting  Adrienne's  morning's  occupation. 

Madame  Grivois  had  been  for  twenty  years  in  the  service  of  Madame 
de  Saint-Dizier,  and  she  knew  all  that  a  femmc  de  chambre  can  and 
ought  to  know  of  her  mistress,  when  that  mistress  has  been  very  gay. 
Was  she  voluntarily  retained  by  the  princess? — she,  the  well-informed 
witness  of  the  multiplied  errors  of  youth  ?  This  was  not  known.  It 
was  only  evident  that  Madame  Grivois  enjoyed  great  privileges  with 
the  princess,  and  was  considered  by  her  rather  as  a  companion  than  a 
waiting-woman. 

"  Here,  madame,  are  Florine's  notes,"  said  Madame  Grivois,  hand- 
ing the  paper  to  the  princess. 

"  I  will  look  at  it  directly,"  replied  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier.  "My 
niece  is  coming  here :  during  the  conference,  at  which  she  will  be 


262  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

present,  you  will  conduct  into  her  pavilion  a  person  who  will  soon  be 
here,  and  who  will  inquire  for  me." 

"  Very  well,  inadame." 

"  This  person  will  take  a  precise  inventory  of  every  thing  in  Adri- 
riiin •'>  pavilion.  You  will  see  that  nothing  is  omitted  :  this  is  of  the 
greatest  importance." 

"  Yes,  inadame ;  but  if  Georgette  and  Hebe  refuse  ?  " 

"  Make  yourself  easy :  the  man  who  is  empowered  to  take  this 
inventory  has  a  power  which,  when  they  know,  these  girls  will  not 
dare  oppose  either  the  inventory  or  any  other  measures  he  may  choose 
to  take.  You  must  not  fail,  when  you  accompany  him,  to  insist  on  cer- 
tain facts  which  will  materially  tend  to  confirm  the  reports  which  you 
have  for  some  time  spread  ahout." 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  madanie  :  those  reports  have  already  acquired 
the  consistency  of  truth." 

"  Well,  then,  soon  now  the  insolent  and  haughty  Adrienne  will  be 
subdued,  and  compelled  to  ask  pardon — and  of  me  too " 

An  old  valet  de  chambre  opened  the  folding-doors,  and  announced, 

"  M.  the  Abbe  d' Aigrigny ! " 

"  If  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  comes,"  said  the  princess  to 
Madame  Grivois,  "  request  her  to  wait  an  instant." 

"  Yes,  madame,"  said  the  duenna,  who  left  the  room  with  the  valet 
de  chambre. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  M.  d'Aigrigny  remained  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE  PLOT. 

THE  Abbe  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  was,  as  may  have  been  conjec- 
tured, the  personage  whom  we  have  already  seen  in  the  Rue  Milieu- 
des-Ursines,  whence  he  had  set  out  for  Rome  about  three  months 
before. 

The  marquis  was  clothed  in  deep  mourning  and  with  his  usual 
elegance.  He  did  not  wear  a  cassock ;  but  his  black  frock-coat,  which 
fitted  accurately,  and  his  well-cut  waistcoat,  displayed  the  elegance  of 
his  figure,  whilst  his  black  cassimere  trousers  exhibited  to  advantage  his 
foot,  encased  in  patent-leather  boots.  The  tonsure  was  lost  in  the 
slight  baldness  which  had  commenced  at  the  back  part  of  his  head. 
Nothing,  in  fact,  in  his  garb  revealed  the  priest,  unless  it  might  be  the 
entire  want  of  whiskers  or  moustache,  which  was  remarkable  in  so 
manly  a  countenance  ;  his  freshly  shaved  chin  rested  on  a  high  and  full 
black  cravat,  tied  with  a  military  air,  which  reminded  you  that  this  re- 
nowned preacher,  at  this  period  one  of  the  most  active  and  influential 
chief's  of  the  Order,  had,  under  the  Restoration,  commanded  a  regiment 
of  hussars,  after  having  made  war  with,  the  Russians  against  France. 

Having  only  arrived  that  morning,  the  marquis  had  not  seen  the 


THE  PLOT.  263 

princess  since  his  mother,  the  Dowager-Marchioness  d'Aigrigny,  had 
died  near  Dunkirk,  on  an  estate  belonging  to  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 
calling  in  vain  on  her  son  to  soothe  the  bitter  anguish  of  her  parting 
hour  ;  but  an  order,  which  had  compelled  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  to 
sacrih'ce  the  most  sacred  sentiments  of  nature,  had  arrived  from 
Rome  suddenly,  and  he  had  instantly  set  out  for  that  city,  not  without 
a  display  of  hesitation,  remarked  and  denounced  by  Rodin  :  for  the 
love  which  D'Aigrigny  had  for  his  mother  was  the  only  pure  feeling 
which  had  constantly  attended  him  through  life. 

When  the  valet  de  chambre  had  discreetly  retired  with  Madame 
Grivois,  the  marquis  approached  the  princess  with  emotion,  and  ex- 
tending his  hand  said,  in  a  stifled  voice, 

"  Herminie,  have  you  concealed  nothing  from  me  in  your  letters? 
Did  not  my  mother  curse  me  in  her  last  moments  ?  " 

"  No,  Frederic  I  I  assure  you,  no  I  She  was  most  desirous  to  see 
you,  but  her  mind  soon  wandered,  and  in  her  delirium  she  called  for 
you  constantly." 

"  Yes ! "  said  the  marquis,  bitterly  ;  "  her  maternal  instinct  told 
her,  no  doubt,  that  my  presence  might,  perhaps,  have  restored  her 
to  life." 

"  I  entreat  you  to  forget  such  saddening  recollections.  The  mis- 
fortune is  irreparable  ! " 

••  Once  again,  and  for  the  last  time,  tell  me,  and  tell  me  truly,  was 
not  my  mother  cruelly  affected  by  my  absence  ?  She  could  not  sus- 
pect that  a  more  imperious  duty  could  summon  me  elsewhere  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  I  tell  you  !  Before  her  mind  wandered  she  knew  that 
there  had  not  yet  been  time  for  you  to  have  reached  her.  All  the  sad 
details  which  I  wrote  you  on  the  subject  were  precisely  true :  so,  pray 
take  comfort." 

"  Yes,  my  conscience  ought  to  be  tranquil !  I  obeyed  my  duty  in 
sacrificing  my  mother !  and  yet,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  could  not  attain 
that  entire  detachment  of  feeling  which  is  commanded  in  these  terrible 
words, — '  He  who  Jialcth  not  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  even  his 
oicii  soul,  cannot  be  my  disciple.'  "* 

"  Doubtless,  Frederic,  these  sacrifices  are  most  painful ;  but  in  ex- 
change, what  influence  !  what  power  !" 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  marquis,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"  What  would  not  one  sacrifice  to  reign  in  the  shade  over  those  all- 
potent  of  the  earth  who  rule  in  open  day  ?  My  recent  journey  to 
Rome  has  given  me  fresh  ideas  as  to  our  formidable  power." 

"  Oh,  this  power  is  groat  I  — excessive  !"  said  the  princess  ;  "  and 
the  more  so,  the  more  formidable,  and  the  more  assured,  as  it  works 
mysteriously  on  minds  and  consciences." 

"  I  tell  you,  Herrninie,"  said  the  marquis,  "  I  have  had  under  my 
orders  a  splendid  regiment,  and  I  have  very  often  experienced  the 
deep  and  manly  delight  of  command.  At  my  voice  the  horsemen 
were  moved,  the  trumpets  sounded,  my  officers,  brilliant  with  golden 

*  In  reference  to  this  assertion,  we  find  the  following  commentary  in  the  CV.n- 
.•itinitiiiiia  itf  the  Jesuits  : — "  In  order  that  the  character  of  this  language  may  come  in 
aid  of  the  feelings,  it  is  wise  to  accustom  one's  self  to  say,  not  1  HAVE  parent*,  or  I 
HAVE  brothers  ;  but  I  HAD  parents,!  UAD  brothers." — General  Examination,  p.  29, 
Constitution:.  Paulin,  Paris,  1843. 


264  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

embroidery,  galloped  fiercely  to  repeat  my  orders;  all  the  brave, 
ardent,  and  battle-scarred  soldiers  obeyed  me  as  one  man,  on  any  sig- 
nal, and  I  felt  myself  proud  and  powerful,  holding  as  I  did  in  my 
hand  all  the  valour  which  I  thus  controlled,  as  I  controlled  the  impe- 
tuosity of  my  war-horse.  Well !  now,  in  spite  of  adverse  times,  I  feel 
myself  a  thousand  times  fuller  of  action,  of  authority,  strength,  and 
audacity,  at  the  head  of  this  black  and  silent  militia,  which  thinks, 
wishes,  and  obeys,  mechanically,  according  to  my  will  I " 

"  You  reason  most  truly,  Frederic,"  replied  the  princess,  quickly. 
"  When  we  reflect,  with  what  contempt  do  we  think  upon  the  past ! 
Like  you,  I  often  compare  the  present  with  it,  and  then  what  satisfac- 
tion do  I  feel  in  having  followed  your  counsels !  For,  after  all,  with- 
out you  J  should  have  played  but  that  miserable  and  ridiculous  part 
which  a  woman  must  always  go  through  when  she  reaches  a  certain 
age,  after  having  been  handsome  and  admired.  What  should  1  have 
done  ?  I  might  in  vain  have  attempted  to  attract  again  around  me  a 
selfish  and  ungrateful  world — those  coarse  men,  who  only  think  of 
women  as  long  as  they  are  made  subservient  to  their  passions  or  flatter 
their  vanity  :  or  I  might  still  have  had  left  to  me  the  resource  of  keep- 
ing up  what  is  called  an  agreeable  house — for  others — yes,  and  given 
fetes ;  that  is,  I  might  have  received  a  crowd  of  indifferent  persons,  and 
have  created  a  rendezvous  for  young  lovers,  who,  following  each  other 
from  room  to  room,  only  come  to  you  that  they  may  be  together :  an 
agreeable  position  assuredly,  that  you  may  collect  together  a  giddy, 
laughing,  loving  set,  who  consider  the  luxury  and  dclat  with  which  you 
surround  them  as  embellishments  due  to  their  gay  and  impertinent 
amours."  There  was  so  much  severity  in  the  words  of  the  princess, 
and  her  countenance  expressed  so  much  hate  and  envy,  that  the  violent 
bitterness  of  her  regret  escaped  her  in  spite  of  herself.  "  No  I  no  1 " 
she  continued ;  "  thanks  to  you,  Frederic,  after  a  final  and  brilliant 
triumph,  I  broke  from  that  world  which  else  would  so  soon  have 
abandoned  me  !  Yes,  one  so  long  its  idol  and  its  queen  !  I  have 
changed  my  kingdom,  and  instead  of  dissipated  men,  whom  I  ruled 
over  because  my  frivolity  was  superior  to  their  own,  I  see  myself  now 
encircled  by  men  of  first-rate  importance,  feared  and  all-powerful, 
many  of  whom  govern  the  state  itself:  I  am  as  much  devoted  to  them 
as  they  are  devoted  to  me.  It  is  now  only  that  I  enjoy  the  happiness 
of  which  I  had  always  dreamed ;  I  have  an  active  part,  a  powerful 
influence  in  the  first  interests  of  the  world  ;  I  have  been  initiated  into 
the  most  important  secrets  ;  I  have  been  enabled  to  strike  heavily  and 
surely  all  who  have  railed  at  or  hated  me ;  I  have  been  able  to  raise 
beyond  their  hopes  those  who  have  served,  respected,  and  obeyed  me." 

"  And  there  are  madmen,  blind  creatures,  who  think  we  are 
crushed  because  we  have  to  contend  against  an  adverse  period!"  said 
M.  d'Aigrigny  with  disdain  ;  "as  if  we  were  not  every  where  prepared 
and  organised  for  the  struggle ;  as  if,  in  the  struggle,  we  should  not 
pour  forth  new  power  and  fresh  activity !  No  doubt  the  times  are 
adverse,  but  they  will  become  better.  You  know  it  is  almost 
certain  that  in  a  few  days,  the  13th  of  February,  we  shall  have  at  our 
disposal  a  means  of  action  sufficiently  potent  to  re-establish  our  influ- 
ence, which  has  been  momentarily  shaken." 

"  Assuredly !  the  affair  of  the  medals  is  so  important  1 " 


THE  PLOT.  265 

"  I  should  not  have  made  so  much  haste  to  return  hither,  but  from 
my  anxiety  to  be  present  at  what  may  be  for  us  so  great  an  event." 

"  You  have  learnt,  no  doubt,  the  singular  fatality  which  has  so 
nearly  destroyed  all  our  plans,  so  ably  conceived  and  laid  ?  " 

"  Yes,  immediately  I  arrived  I  saw  Rodin." 

"  Who  told  you " 

"  The  inconceivable  facts  of  the  arrival  of  the  Indian  and  General 
Simon's  daughters  at  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville,  after  the  double 
shipwreck,  which  has  cast  them  on  the  coast  of  Picardy,  when  we  be- 
lieved the  young  girls  at  Leipsic  and  the  Indian  at  Java,  for  our  pre- 
cautions were  so  carefully  taken.  Really,"  added  the  marquis,  with 
vexation,  "  it  would  almost  seem  that  some  invisible  power  protects 
this  family ! " 

"  Fortunately,  Rodin  is  a  man  of  resources  and  activity,"  resumed 
the  princess.  "He  came  here  last  night,  and  we  had  along  conference." 

"  And  the  result  of  your  conference  is  excellent.  The  soldier  will 
be  sent  away  for  a  couple  of  days,  the  confessor  of  his  wife  is  fully  in- 
structed, and  the  rest  will  work  by  itself,  To-morrow  these  young 
girls  will  not  give  us  further  cause  for  alarm.  The  Indian  only  is  left, 
and  he  is  at  Cardoville,  dangerously  hurt,  so  that  we  shall  have  time 
to  act." 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  replied  the  princess ;  "  there  are  besides, 
without  including  my  niece,  two  persons  who,  for  the  sake  of  our  in- 
terests, must  not  be  in  Paris  on  the  13th  of  February." 

"  Yes,  M.  Hardy  !  But  his  dearest  and  most  intimate  friend  be- 
trays him,  and  by  him  we  have  drawn  M.  Hardy  into  the  south, 
whence  it  is  impossible  he  can  return  before  a  month.  As  to  that  vaga- 
bond wretch,  the  workman  they  call  Couche-tout-Nud " 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  an  air  of  offended  modesty. 

"  That  fellow  will  not  trouble  us.  Then  there  is  but  Gabriel  on 
whom  rests  our  vast  but  certain  hope ;  he  will  not  be  left  alone  for 
one  moment  until  the  important  day.  All,  therefore,  seems  to  pro- 
mise success,  and  it  is  for  us  a  question  of  life  or  death ;  for,  on  my 
return,  I  stopped  at  Forle,  where  I  saw  the  Duke  d'Orbano,  whose 
influence  over  the  king,  his  master,  is  all-powerful — absolute;  so 
entirely  has  he  got  him  into  his  own  hands.  It  is  with  the  duke  alone, 
therefore,  that  there  is  any  occasion  to  treat." 

"Well!" 

"  D'Orbano  declares  he  can  (and  I  am  sure  of  his  power)  assure  to 
us  a  legal  existence,  strongly  protected  in  his  master's  states,  with  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  educating  the  rising  generation.  By  the  aid  of 
such  advantages  we  only  require  two  or  three  years'  establishment  in 
that  country  to  be  so  finnty  rooted,  that  the  Duke  d'Orbano  must,  in 
his  turn,  come  to  us  for  protection  ;  but,  at  this  moment,  he  is  all 
potent,  and  demands  one  absolute  condition  for  his  services." 

"  And  this  condition  ?  " 

"  Five  millions  (200, OOO/.) ;  and  an  annual  pension  of  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  (4000/.)." 

"  That  is  a  large  sum  ! " 

"  Yet  it  is  but  little  when  we  reflect  that,  let  us  only  set  foot  in 
that  country,  we  should  soon  work  that  sum  back  again  ;  which,  after 


266  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

all,  is  hardly  the  eighth-part  of  what  the  medals,  properly  managed,  will 
insure  to  the  Order." 

"True — nearly  forty  millions  (1,600,0007.),"  said  the  princess, 
with  a  reflective  air. 

"  Then  the  five  millions,  which  D'Orbano  asks,  will  be  but  an 
advance — it  will  be  returned  by  voluntary  donations ;  because,  by  the 
increase  of  influence  which  the  education  of  the  children  will  give  us, 
we  shall  have  our  hold  on  the  families.  Oh  I  those  who  govern  do 
not  see  when  we  are  working  our  interests  we  are  working  theirs, 
and  that,  in  abandoning  to  us  education,  which  we  desire  above 
all  things,  we  form  and  fashion  the  people  to  that  mute  and  uncom- 
plaining condition,  to  the  submission  of  the  serf  and  the  brute,  who 
assure  the  quiet  of  states  by  the  passiveness  of  mind.  They  do  not 
see  that  this  blind  and  passive  obedience,  which  we  demand  of  the 
masses,  serves  as  a  bridle  to  lead  and  master  them  ;  whilst  we  ask 
from  the  fortunates  of  the  world  those  appearances  only  which  ought, 
if  they  had  but  a  knowledge  of  their  corruption,  to  give  additional 
stimulant  to  their  pleasures." 

"  It  is  no  matter,  Frederick,"  replied  the  princess ;  "  as  you  say,  the 
important  day  is  at  hand,  and  with  nearly  forty  millions,  which  the 
Order  may  secure  by  the  happy  result  of  the  affair  of  the  medals,  we 
may,  assuredly,  dare  great  things.  As  a  lever  in  your  hands,  such  a 
means  of  action  would  have  incalculable  effect,  at  a  time  when  every 
thing  and  every  body  are  bought  and  sold." 

"  But,  then,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  with  a  thoughtful  air,  "  it  is  of  no 
use  to  disguise  the  fact :  here  the  re-action  continues — the  example 
of  France  is  every  thing.  We  can  hardly  maintain  ourselves  in  Austria 
and  Holland — the  resources  of  the  Order  diminish  daily.  It  is  a 
moment  of  crisis,  but  it  may  be  lengthened.  Thus,  thanks  to  this 
enormous  resource,  the  affair  of  the  medals,  we  may  not  only  contend 
against  chances,  but  establish  ourselves  even  more  firmly.  Thanks  to 
the  offer  of  the  Duke  d'Orbano,  which  we  decide  on  accepting ;  and 
then,  from  this  invincible  centre,  our  radiations  will  be  incalculable. 
Ah !  the  thirteenth  of  February !"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  shaking  his 
head:  "that  day  may  become  an  epoch  as  eventful  to  our  power  as 
that  of  the  council,  which  in  a  manner  gives  fresh  life." 

"  And,  therefore,"  pursued  the  princess,  "  must  we  spare  nothing 
to  succeed,  at  any  price.  Of  the  six  persons  you  have  cause  to  fear, 
five  either  now  are,  or  will  be,  in  no  condition  to  oppose  you  ;  there 
only  remains  my  niece,  and  you  well  know  I  merely  awaited  your 
arrival  to  take  definitive  measures.  All  my  plans  are  arranged,  and 
this  very  morning  we  will  commence  putting  them  into  practice." 

"  Have  your  suspicious  increased  since  you  last  wrote  ?" 

"  They  have  ;  and  I  am  now  quite  convinced  she  knows  a  great 
deal  more  than  she  affects  to  do." 

"  Such  has  always  been  my  opinion,  and  therefore,  six  months  ago, 
I  persuaded  you  to  adopt  the  measures  you  have  done,  in  order  to 
provoke  her  to  demand  her  emancipation  from  all  control ;  the  conse- 
quences of  which  have  rendered  it  easy  for  us  now  to  take  steps  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  impossible." 

"  At  length,  then,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  an  expression  of 


THE  PLOT.  267 

bitter  and  rancorous  exultation,  "  at  length  this  proud  spirit  shall  be 
broken,  and  I  be  avenged  for  the  insolent  sarcasms  I  have  been  com- 
pelled to  bear  in  silence,  lest  I  should  retort  in  such  a  way  as  to  excite 
her  suspicions.  Yes,  to-day  will  sec  me  able  to  pay  back  all  I  have 
been  obliged  to  endure  from  that  imprudent  and  ungovernable  girl, 
whose  daily  and  hourly  task  it  seemed  to  incense  and  irritate  me  still 
more  against  her." 

"  Those  who  offend  you,  offend  me  likewise  ;  you  know  well  my 
hatred  and  revenge  ever  accompany  yours." 

"  And  you  !  how  frequently  have  you  been  made  the  subject  of 
her  biting  jests  and  poignant  raillery!" 

"  My  impulses  rarely  deceive  me,"  said  the  marquis,  in  a  harsh 
and  abrupt  tone,  "  and  I  feel  certain  that  girl  will  one  day  prove  a 
dangerous,  ay,  most  dangerous,  enemy  to  us." 

"  Therefore  are  we  more  imperatively  called  upon  to  put  it  out  of  her 
power  to  harm  us,"  replied  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  fixing  her  eyes 
with  a  steady  gaze  on  the  marquis. 

"  Have  you  seen  Doctor  Baleinier,  and  the  guardian,  M.  Tripeaud  ?" 
inquired  he. 

"  They  will  be  here  this  morning.     I  have  well  prepared  them." 

"  Did  you  find  them  disposed  freely  to  enter  into  your  wishes  against 
Adrienue  ?" 

"  Perfectly  so  ;  and  one  very  excellent  thing  is,  that  my  niece 
entertains  not  the  slightest  mistrust  of  the  doctor,  who  has  always 
possessed  her  entire  confidence.  Besides  this,  a  most  singular,  and  to 
me  wholly  inexplicable  circumstance,  has  just  come  to  aid  us." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  " 

"  This  morning,  Madame  Grivois  went,  according  to  my  orders, 
to  remind  Adrienne  that  I  expected  her  about  mid-day  upon  important 
'business ;  as  she  approached  the  pavilion,  Madame  Grivois  either 
saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  return  home  by 
the  small  garden  gate." 

"Can  this  be  possible!"  exclaimed  the  marquis;  "have  you 
absolute  proofs  of  this  strange  fact?" 

"  At  present  I  have  no  further  corroboration  than  the  voluntary 
testimony  of  Madame  Grivois ;  but,  now  I  think  of  it,"  said  the 
princess,  taking  up  a  paper  which  lay  beside  her,  "  here  is  the  daily 
report  drawn  up  by  one  of  Adrienne's  waiting-women." 

4i  She  whom  Rodin  contrived  to  place  about  your  niece  ?" 

"  The  same ;  and,  as  this  creature  is  wholly  dependent  on  Rodin, 
she  has  hitherto  served  us  most  faithfully  :  perhaps  we  shall  find  in  this 
paper  some  confirmation  of  what  Madame  Grivois  affirms  she  beheld." 

Scarcely  had  the  princess  commenced  reading  the  contents  of  the 
journal,  than  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  alarm, 

"  What  do  I  see  ?  This  Adrienne  must  be  some  fiend  in  human 
shape  !" 

u  What  is  the  matter?" 

"  The  steward  of  Cardoville,  writing  to  my  niece  to  implore  her 
protection,  informs  her  of  the  young  Indian  prince  being  at  the  castle. 
She  is  well  aware  of  his  relationship  to  her,  and  despatches  a  letter  forth- 
with to  her  old  instructor  in  drawing,  Norval,  desiring  him  to  set  out 
post  for  Cardoville,  in  order  to  bring  back  Prince  Djalma ;  he  who,  at 
all  risks,  and  at  any  cost,  must  be  kept  away  from  Paris." 


268  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  marquis  turned  ghastly  pale,  as  he  said  to  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  "  If  this  be  not  some  fresh  whim  of  your  capricious  niece,  the 
eagerness  and  anxiety  she  evinces  to  convey,  this  relation  from  Car- 
doville  here,  proves  that  she  knows  even  more  than  you  have  ever 
dared  to  suspect  her  of.  There  can  be  no  further  doubt,  but  that  she 
is  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair  of  the  medals — she  may 
ruin  every  thing :  beware,  beware  ! " 

"  Then,"  returned  the  princess,  resolutely,  "  there  is  no  further  time 
for  hesitation.  We  must  proceed  even  to  greater  extremities  than  we 
first  proposed.  Let  all  be  finished  this  morning." 

"That  is  scarcely  possible  I" 

"  Pardon  ,me,"  returned  the  princess,  impatiently,  "  all  things  arc 
possible  to  determined  minds.  The  doctor  and  M.  Tripeaud  are  with 
us,  and  will  support  us  in  everything." 

"Although  equally  confident  as  yourself  of  the  readiness  and  zeal 
of  the  doctor  and  M.  Tripeaud  in  this  business/'  said  the  marquis, 
thoughtfully,  "  yet  I  think  we  must  not  touch  upon  the  question  of 
executing  our  designs  to-day,  which  might  alarm  them  if  too  hastily 
explained,  until  we  have  had  our  proposed  conference  with  your  niece. 
Spite  of  her  cunning,  we  shall  easily  manage  to  elicit  from  her  what  we 
want  to  know.  And,  if  our  suspicions  be  correct,  if  she  really  knows 
that  which  it  would  be  so  unsafe  and  dangerous  she  should  be 
acquainted  with,  then  there  must  be  no  further  temporising — not  an 
hour's  delay — all  hesitation  must  be  at  an  end  :  we  have  no  choice." 

"Have  you  apprised  the  man  we  were  speaking  of?"  said  the 
princess,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  He  will  be  here  about  twelve  o'clock;  he  is  sure  not  to  be  later." 

"  I  have   been  thinking,  we  can  perfectly  well  accomplish   our 
purpose  here ;  this  room  is  only  separated  from  the  small  salon  by  a^ 
small  door,  covered  with  a  curtain,  which  can  be  let  down,  and  your 
man  can  easily  hide  behind  it." 

"  Excellent !" 

"  He  is  entirely  to  be  depended  upon,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Quite,  quite  so  I  We  have  frequently  employed  him  under 
similar  circumstances,  and  have  ever  found  him  discreet,  clever,  and 
useful !" 

At  this  instant  some  one  tapped  lightly  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  princess. 

"  Doctor  Baleinier  wishes  to  know  if  Madame  la  Princesse  can  sec 
him  ?"  inquired  the  valet  de  cJiambre,  who  presented  himself. 

"  Certainly  !  request  him  to  walk  in." 

"There  is  also  a  person  M.  l'Abb£  desired  to  meet  here  at 
twelve  o'clock,  and  whom,  according  to  his  orders,  I  have  desired  to 
wait  in  the  oratory." 

"  It  is  the  man  we  were  speaking  of,"  said  the  marquis  to  the 
princess ;  "  we  must  introduce  him  here  at  once — it  would  be  quite 
useless  for  Doctor  Baleinier  to  see  him  just  at  present." 

"  Bring  the  person  you  have  shewn  into  the  oratory  here,"  said  the 
princess ;  "  then,  when  I  ring,  you  will  request  Doctor  Baleinier  to 
walk  in  ;  and  should  Baron  Tripeaud  call,  conduct  him  to  us  at  once. 
After  that,  I  am  not  at  home  to  any  person  but  Mademoiselle 
Adrienne." 


iHi 


' 

f  II 


THE    ENKMIE8    OK    ADIUKNNE. 


m.U.n:  Cli.ipiiijin  HII.I  ll«ll      March  I, 


THK    ESPIONAGE. 
P    *». 


London:  Chapman  and  Hall.     -June  Ift,  I84fc 


THE  ENEMIES  OP  ADRIENNE.  269 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 


THE  ENEMIES  OF  ADRIENNE. 

THE  valet  de  chambre  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  soon 
returned  with  a  little  pale-faced  man,  dressed  in  black  and  wearing 
spectacles ;  he  bore  under  his  arm  a  long  case,  covered  with  black 
leather. 

"  M.  1'Abbe,  I  presume,  has  explained  to  you  what  you  will  have 
to  do  ?" 

"  Yes,  madame,"  answered  the  individual  addressed,  in  a  small, 
shrill  voice,  bowing  most  profoundly. 

"  Will  this  apartment  be  suitable  to  your  purpose  ?"  inquired  the 
princess,  as  she  conducted  him  to  an  adjoining  chamber,  separated 
from  the  salon  only  by  the  masked  door. 

"  It  will  do  extremely  well,  madame  la  princesse,"  replied  the  man 
with  the  spectacles,  with  another  and  still  lower  bow. 

"  You  may  then  remain  in  this  apartment.  I  will  come  and  in- 
form you  when  you  are  wanted." 

"  I  shall  wait  your  commands,  madame  la  princesse." 

"  And  be  sure  to  attend  carefully  to  the  instructions  I  have  given 
you,"  added  the  marquis,  unfastening  the  curtains  which  hung  before 
the  opening. 

The  thick  material  of  which  they  were  composed  fell  heavily  to 
the  ground,  and  completely  concealed  the  little  personage  in  spectacles. 

The  princess  rang  the  bell,  and  almost  immediately  a  servant 
announced  Doctor  Baleinier,  a  most  important  person  in  this  history. 

Doctor  Baleinier  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  of  middle  stature, 
stout,  and  with  a  round,  rosy,  shining  countenance ;  his  smooth  grey 
hair,  which  he  wore  somewhat  long,  was  parted  down  the  middle  of 
his  forehead,  and  lay  Hat  on  his  temples.  He  continued  the  old 
custom  of  black  satin  breeches,  because,  perhaps,  he  had  a  good  leg ; 
whilst  he  had  gold  buckles  at  his  knees  and  in  his  bright  morocco 
leather  shoes.  He  wore  a  black  waistcoat,  coat,  and  cravat,  which  gave 
him  somewhat  of  a  clerical  air ;  and  his  white  plump  hand  was  half 
concealed  by  a  plaited  ruffle  of  fine  cambric,  and  the  sedateness  of  his 
countenance  did  not  preclude  its  nicety. 

His  countenance  was  smiling  and  intelligent,  his  small  grey  eye 
bespoke  unusual  sagacity  and  penetration  ;  and  Doctor  Baleinier,  a 
man  of  the  world  and  of  pleasure,  a  refined  eater,  a  witty  talker, 
attentive  even  to  obsequiousness,  supple,  ready,  and  insinuating,  was 
one  of  the  oldest  of  the  creatures  of  the  coterie  which  the  Princess  de 
Saint-Dizier  had  drawn  around  her. 

Thanks  to  that  all-powerful  support  of  which  the  world  did  not 
know  the  source,  the  doctor,  who  had  been  long  unnoticed  in  spite  of 
his  real  skill  and  indubitable  merit,  found  himself  under  the  Restoration 
pleasantly  endowed  with  two  lucrative  medical  sinecures,  and  by 
degrees,  with  a  large  list  of  patients  ;  but  we  must  add,  that  once  under 
the  patronage  of  the  princess,  the  doctor  began  suddenly  to  be  most 


THB  WANDERING  JEW. 

scrupulous  in  his  religious  duties — took  the  communion  once  a-week, 
and  publicly  at  the  high  mass  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 

At  the  end  of  a  year,  a  certain  class  of  invalids,  induced  by  the 
example  and  enthusiasm  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier's  coterie,  would 
not  hear  of  any  medical  man  but  Doctor  Baleinier,  and  his  list  of 
patients  soon  swelled  to  a  large  number. 

We  may  easily  judge  of  calls  for  the  Order  to  have  amongst  its 
out-door  members  one  of  the  most  celebrated  practitioners  of  Paris. 

A  physician  has  also  his  priesthood. 

Admitted  at  all  hours  into  the  most  secret  intimacy  of  families,  a 
physician  knows,  guesses,  and  can  do  many  things. 

Like  the  priest,  he  has  the  care  of  the  sick  and  dying. 

And  where  he  who  is  charged  with  the  health  of  the  body,  and  he 
who  is  charged  with  the  health  of  the  soul,  understand  each  other,  and 
work  mutually  for  one  common  interest,  there  is  nothing  (at  least  the 
exceptions  are  very  few)  which  they  cannot  obtain  from  the  weakness 
or  the  fear  of  the  dying ;  not  for  themselves,  for  the  laws  deny  that,  but 
for  the  third  portions,  belonging,  more  or  less,  to  that  most  convenient 
class,  the  men  of  straw. 

Dr.  Baleinier  was  thus  one  of  the  most  active  and  valuable  ex- 
ternal members  of  the  whole  congregation  of  Paris. 

When  he  entered,  he  kissed  the  hand  of  the  princess  with  most 
perfect  gallantry. 

"  Always  punctual,  my  dear  Monsieur  Baleinier." 

"  Always  happy,  always  most  desirous  to  attend  your  commands, 
madame."  Then  turning  to  the  marquis,  whom  he  shook  heartily  by 
the  hand,  he  added : 

"  At  last  we  have  you  again  !  Do  you  know  that  three  months  is  a 
very  long  time  for  your  friends " 

"  The  time  is  not  so  long  for  those  who  depart  as  for  those  who  re- 
main, my  dear  doctor.  Well,  the  great  day  has  come  at  last :  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville  is  coming  here  directly." 

"  I  must  say,  that  I  feel  some  uneasiness,"  said  the  princess :  "if 
she  had  any  suspicion " 

"  That  is  impossible,"  said  M.  Baleinier ;  "  we  are  the  best  friends 
in  the  world.  You  know  that  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  has  always  had 
the  greatest  confidence  in  me.  The  day  before  yesterday  we  laughed 
together  excessively,  and  I  made,  according  to  my  usual  habit,  some 
remarks  on  her  somewhat  eccentric  mode  of  life,  and  on  the  singular 
turn  of  ideas  in  which  I  found  her  on  that  occasion." 

"  Pray,  M.  Baleinier,  do  not  fail  particularly  to  insist  on  this  cir- 
cumstance, however  trifling  it  may  seem,"  said  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  with  a  significant  glance  at  the  marquis. 

"  But  which  are,  indeed,  of  great  importance,"  replied  he. 

"  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  replied  to  my  observations,"  answered 
the  doctor,  "  by  laughing  at  me  in  the  most  lively,  sprightly  manner 
imaginable,  for  I  must  own  this  young  lady  possesses  the  most  brilliant 
sparkling  wit  of  any  female  of  my  acquaintance." 

"  Doctor  !  doctor!"  interrupted  Madame  de  Saint-Dizicr,  "  none  of 
this  weakness  from  yon,  I  beg  ! " 

Instead  of  any  immediate  attention  to  this  remark,  M.  Baleinier 
look  his  gold  snuff-box  from  the  pocket  of  his  waistcoat,  opened  it,  and 


THE  ENEMIES  OP  ADRlENNE.  271 

helping  himself  to  a  pinch  of  snuff  continued,  while  slowly  inhaling  it, 
to  regard  the  princess  with  an  air  so  significant  and  satisfactory 
as  seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  setting  her  quite  at  ease. 

"  My  weakness,  madame!"  said  M.  Baleinier  at  length,  while 
gently  shaking  off  with  his  white  hand  a  few  grains  of  snuff  which  had 
fallen  on  the  folds  of  his  shirt  front ;  "  have  I  not  done  myself  the 
honour  to  step  forward  and  voluntarily  proffer  my  aid  in  the  difficult 
position  in  which  you  are  now  placed?" 

"  And  you  are  the  only  living  creature  who  really  could  be  of 
service,"  added  M.  d'Aigrigny. 

"  Thus  you  see,  then,  madame,"  resumed  the  doctor,  "  I  am  not  a 
weak  person,  since  I  perfectly  comprehend  the  character  and  extent  of 
the  part  you  wish  me  to  play ;  but  you  have  assured  me  that  such 
immense  interests  are  at  stake 

"  Immense,  indeed !"  rejoined  M.  d'Aigrigny  ;  "  an  interest 
beyond  all  calculation  !" 

"  With  that  impression  on  my  mind,  I  did  not  allow  myself  to 
hesitate  for  a  moment,"  replied  M.  Baleinier.  "  Be  quite,  easy,  I  pray 
you,  and  allow  me,  as  a  man  of  taste  and  judgment,  to  admire  and  do 
justice  to  the  brilliant  and  remarkable  powers  of  Mademoiselle  Adri- 
enne's  mind,  and  when  the  moment  for  acting  arrives,  you  will  judge 
how  far  my  admiration  interferes  with  my  duties  to  you." 

"  That  moment,  may  be  nearer  than  we  suppose,"  said  Madame 
de  Saint-Dizier,  exchanging  a  look  with  M.  d'Aigrigny. 

"  Well,  J  am  always  ready,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  I  can  depend 
upon  myself  as  far  as  I  am  concerned ;  I  only  wish  I  felt  equally 
tranquil  as  regards  other  matters." 

"  Is  not  your  Maison  de.  Sante  in  as  first-rate  celebrity  as  it  is 
possible  for  such  an  establishment  to  be?"  said  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  with  a  half  smile. 

"  As  for  that,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  have  only  to  complain  of  the 
number  of  my  patients  increasing  beyond  my  powers  of  accommodat- 
ing them.  No,  that  is  not  the  subject  of  my  uneasiness  ;  but,  while  we 
are  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,  I  will  just  say  a 
few  words  respecting  an  atiair  with  which  she  is  but  indirectly  con- 
nected ;  it  refers  to  the  person  who  has  purchased  the  estate  at  Cardo- 
ville,  a  certain  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe,  who,  thanks  to  the  skil- 
ful management  of  Rodin,  has  established  me  as  her  medical  adviser." 

"Indeed!"  said  D'Aigrigny.  "  Rodin  wrote  me  on  the  subject, 
but  without  entering  into  particulars." 

"  The  fact  is  this,"  continued  the  doctor  ;  "  this  Madame  de  la 
Sainte-Colombe,  who  seemed  at  first  so  tractable,  has  lately  evinced  a 
great  disposition  to  retrograde  in  her  conversion ;  two  of  her  spiritual 
advisers  have  already  renounced  all  hopes  of  saving  her.  Not  know- 
ing how  to  proceed,  Rodin  despatched  Philippon  to  her.  Now  Philip- 
pon  is  clever,  determined,  persevering,  and  possessed  of  patience 
enough  to  wear  any  body  out ;  he  was  just  the  man  we  wanted. 
Knowing  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  was  one  of  my  patients, 
Philippon  applied  to  me  for  my  assistance,  which  was  very  readily 
granted,  and  we  agreed  together  as  to  our  mode  of  co-operation.  I  was 
to  appear  entirely  a  stranger  to  him,  while  he  was  to  give  me  daily 
accounts  of  the  moral  condition  of  his  penitent,  in  order  that,  by  a  very 


272  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

inoffensive  medicine  (for,  in  reality,  the  health  of  my  patient  was  very 
triflingly  affected),  I  might  be  able  to  produce  alternations  of  health, 
or  a  slight  derangement  of  it,  according  as  her  spiritual  director  was 
satisfied,  or  otherwise,  with  her  religious  progress,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  able  to  say  to  her,  '  You  see,  madame,  while  you  steadfastly 
pursue  the  right  road,  grace  produces  an  equally  salutary  effect  on 
your  body  as  your  soul,  and  you  are  well :  but  do  you,  on  the  contrary, 
relapse  into  your  former  sins,  behold  you  experience  a  return  of  bodily 
infirmities  and  physical  ills — evidently  proving  the  all-powerful  influence 
of  faith,  not  only  on  the  mind  but  the  body.'" 

"  It  is,  doubtless,  painful,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  with  the  most  per- 
fect sangfroid,  "  to  be  obliged  to  employ  such  means  to  save  a  fellow- 
creature  from  perdition ;  but  we  must  at  all  times  adopt  our  modes  of 
action  to  the  understanding  and  disposition  of  the  individual  concerned." 

"  Besides,"  resumed  the  doctor,  "  madame  la  princesse  may  recol- 
lect that  I  often,  very  successfully,  employed  these  methods  in  the 
convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  for  the  safety  of  the  soul  of  some  of  our 
invalids.  These  alternations  vary,  at  the  utmost,  only  from  being 
'  quite  well'  to  becoming  'a  little  ailing;'  but,  however  slight  the 
change  effected,  it  is  frequently  sufficient  to  work  very  efficaciously  on 
certain  minds.  And  thus  had  it  progressed  most  beneficially  with 
Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe ;  indeed  she  appeared  to  be  in  so  certain 
a  path  of  mental  cure,  that  Rodin  considered  he  might  with  safety 
direct  Philippon  to  advise  his  penitent  to  retire  to  the  country,  fearing 
the  probability  of  her  relapsing  if  she  continued  in  Paris.  This  advice, 
coupled  with  her  own  desire  to  appear  as  the  Lady  Bountiful  of  the 
parish,  determined  her  to  purchase  the  estate  of  Cardoville  (which,  by 
the  by,  was  a  capital  investment  for  her  money);  but,  behold!  yes- 
terday, this  unfortunate  Philippon  came  to  acquaint  me  that  Madame 
de  la  Sainte-Colombe  was  on  the  point  of  experiencing  a  fearful  re- 
lapse— fearful,  indeed,  for  it  is  one  quite  out  of  the  reach  of  medicine. 
Now  this  mischief  has  all  arisen  from  a  conversation  this  lady  has  had 
with  a  certain  Jacques  Dumoulin,  of  whom  you  know  something,  I  am 
told,  my  dear  abbe,  and  who  has  managed,  I  know  not  how,  to  form 
an  acquaintance  with  her." 

"  This  Jacques  Dumoulin,"  said  the  marquis,  with  disgust,  "  is  one 
of  the  men  we  despise  while  we  make  use  of  them.  He  is  a  writer 
full  of  gall,  envy,  and  hatred,  and  he  possesses  a  species  of  sharp, 
coarse  eloquence.  We  pay  him  well  to  defend  us  from  the  attacks  of 
our  enemies,  though  it  is  really  painful  to  vindicate,  through  the 
medium  of  such  a  pen,  the  principles  we  adopt  and  revere.  He  is  a 
poor,  miserable  scamp,  always  at  a  tavern,  and  generally  carried  home 
in  a  state  of  intoxication  ;  but  still  the  fellow  has  a  most  inexhaustible 
vein  of  abuse,  and  is,  besides,  well  versed  in  all  theological  contro- 
versies :  so  that,  at  times,  his  services  are  really  very  valuable  to  us." 

"  Well,  though  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombe  must  at  least  have 
numbered  sixty  years,  it  would  appear  that  Dumoulin  has  matrimonial 
designs  upon  the  large  fortune  of  this  lady.  You  will  do  wisely,  I 
think,  to  apprise  Rodin,  in  order  that  he  may  take  steps  to  preserve 
her  from  the  sinister  designs  of  this  aspirant  to  her  gold.  But  I  must 
beg  a  thousand  pardons  for  detaining  you  so  long  with  these  disagree- 
able particulars.  Apropos  of  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  of  which  I 


THE   ENEMIES  OF   ADRIENNE.  273 

did  myself,  just  now,  the  honour  of  making  mention,  madame,"  added 
the  doctor,  addressing  himself  to  the  princess;  "  is  it  long  since  you 
were  there  ?" 

The  princess  exchanged  a  quick  glance  with  M.  d'Aigrigny,  and 
replied : 

"  Why,  about  eight  days  ago." 

"  Then  you  will  find  much  change :  the  wall  which  was  between 
that  and  my  Maison  de  Sante  has  been  pulled  down,  and  they  are  about 
to  build  up  a  new  mansion  and  a  chapel,  as  the  old  one  was  too  small. 
Besides,  I  must  say,  to  the  praise  of  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,"  added 
the  doctor,  with  a  singular  half-smile,  "  that  she  had  promised  me,  for 
the  chapel,  a  copy  of  the  '  Virgin'  of  Raphael." 

"  Indeed !  that  was  very  apropos"  said  the  princess.  " But  it  is 
nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  M.  Tripeaud  has  not  arrived." 

"  He  is  the  acting  guardian  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  and 
has  managed  her  affairs  as  the  old  acting  man  of  the  comte-duc,"  said 
the  marquis,  evidently  pre-occupied ;  "  and  his  presence  is  indispens- 
ably requisite  to  us.  He  ought  to  be  here  before  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville,  who  may  come  at  any  moment." 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  his  portrait  cannot  replace  him  here,"  said  tho 
doctor,  with  a  meaning  smile,  and  taking  a  small  pamphlet  from  his 
pocket 

"  What  is  that,  doctor  ?  "  inquired  the  princess. 

"  One  of  those  anonymous  pamphlets  which  appear  from  time  to 
time  ;  it  is  called  the  Scourge,  and  the  picture  of  Baron  Tripeaud  is 
there  sketched  with  so  much  truth  that  it  ceases  to  be  satire.  It  be- 
comes reality :  see,  or  hear  rather.  This  etching  is  entitled,  '  TYPE 
OF  THE  LYNX.' 

"« M.  the  Baron  Tripeaud. — This  man,  who  shews  himself,  who 
conducts  himself,  as  grossly  servile  towards  certain  superiors  in  the 
social  scale,  as  he  does  coarsely  and  brutally  to  those  who  are 
dependant  on  him  —  this  man  is  the  living  and  repulsive  incarnation 
of  the  worst  portion  of  the  commercial  and  industrial  aristocracy,  of 
the  wonted  man,  the  cold-blooded  speculator,  heartless,  soulless, 
faithless,  who  would  play  at  pitch-and-toss  as  to  the  death  of  his 
mother,  if  his  mother's  death  would  have  any  effect  on  the  rise  or  fall 
of  the  funds. 

" '  Such  men  have  all  the  hateful  vices  of  a  newly  enfranchised 
class ;  not  of  those  whom  honourable,  patient,  and  worthy  toil  have 
nobly  enriched,  but  of  those  who  have  been  suddenly  favoured  by  the 
blind  caprice  of  chance,  or  by  a  happy  cast  of  the  net  in  the  foul  waters 
of  stock-jobbing. 

" '  Once  risen,  these  men  hate  the  people,  because  the  people 
remind  them  of  their  origin,  at  which  they  blush.  Without  pity  for 
the  frightful  wretchedness  of  the  masses,  they  attribute  it  to  their 
idleness  and  debauchery,  because  this  foul  calumny  is  a  palliation  for 
their  brutal  selfishness. 

"  <  But  this  is  not  all. 

"  '  From  the  elevation  of  his  strong  box,  and  his  double  right  as  an 
eligible  representative,  M.  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  like  many  others,  insults 
the  poverty  and  political  incapacity, — 

18  T 


274  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

" '  Of  the  soldier  of  fortune,  who,  after  forty  years'  service  and 
warfare,  can  hardly  exist  on  his  scanty  retiring  pension  ; 

" '  Of  the  magistrate,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  fulfilling  sad  and 
painful  duties,  and  is  so  miserably  remunerated  at  the  close  of  his 
days  ; 

" '  Of  the  scholar,  who  has  illustrated  his  country  by  his  useful 
labours;  or  the  professor,  who  has  instructed  whole  generations  in 
every  class  of  human  knowledge  ; 

" '  Of  the  modest  and  virtuous  country  priest,  the  purest  represent- 
ative of  the  Gospel  in  its  charitable,  paternal,  and  popular  interpret- 
ation, &c.  &c. 

" '  In  this  state  of  things,  must  not  Monsieur  the  Baron  de  I'industrie 
have  the  most  perfect  contempt  for  the  crowds  of  honest  folk,  who, 
after  having  given  to  their  country  their  youth,  mature  years,  their 
blood,  their  intelligence,  and  their  knowledge,  see  themselves  denied 
the  rights  which  he  enjoys  ?  Yes,  he  !  because  he  has  gained  a  million 
at  a  game  forbidden  by  law,  or  by  some  discreditable  undertaking ! 

"  '  It  is  true  that  the  optimists  say  to  these  outcasts  of  civilisation, 
whose  proud  and  honest  poverty  they  cannot  too  much  honor  and 
venerate, — 

"  '  Buy  property — then  you  will  be  eligible  as  electors.' 

"  '  We  now  come  to  the  biography  of  M.  the  Baron. 

"'  Andre  Tripeaud.  son  of  an  ostler  at  a  country  inn ' ' 

At  this  moment,  the  two  folding-doors  opened,  and  the  valet  de 
chambre  announced,  "M.  the  Baron  Tripeaud  I" 

Doctor  Baleinier  pocketed  his  pamphlet,  saluted  the  financier  most 
cordially,  and  even  rose  to  shake  him  by  the  hand. 

The  baron  entered,  making  most  respectful  salutations  from  the 
moment  the  doors  were  opened^ 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  attend  the  princess's  orders — she  knows  that 
she  may  always  rely  on  me." 

"  I  rely  on  you  most  entirely,  Monsieur  Tripeaud,  and  especially 
in  the  present  peculiar  circumstance." 

"  If  the  princess's  intentions  respecting  mademoiselle  continue 
precisely  as  they  were " 

"  They  do  precisely,  sir ;  and  that  is  the  reason  why  we  have  all 
met  here  to-day." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse  may  feel  assured  of  my  concurrence,  which 
1  have  already  promised  to  hen  I  think,  also,  that  the  greatest 
severity  ought  now  to  be  employed,  and  that  it  is  even  requisite " 

'•  That  is  our  opinion,  also,"  said  the  marquis  hastily,  making  a  sign 
to  the  princess,  and  looking  towards  the  spot  where  the  man  with  the 
spectacles  was  concealed ;  "  we  are  all  agreed,"  he  added,  "  only  let  us 
perfectly  understand,  not  to  leave  any  point  concerning  the  interests 
of  this  young  lady  in  doubt,  for  it  is  her  interests  which  alone  guide 
us  ;  let  us,  therefore,  excite  her  sincerity  by  all  possible  means." 

••  Mademoiselle  has  come  from  the  garden  of  the  pavilion,  and 
begs  to  know  if  she  can  see  my  lady,"  said  the  valet  de  chambre,  who 
again  presented  himself,  after  having  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Tell  mademoiselle  that  I  am  waiting  for  her,"  said  the  princess; 
"  and  now  I  am  not  at  home  to  anybody — do  you  hear  ? — not  to  any- 


THE  SKIRMISH.  275 

body."  Then  lifting  the  screen,  behind  which  the  man  was  hidden, 
Madame  Saint-Dizier  gave  him  a  look  of  intelligence,  and  then 
returned  to  the  salon. 

It  was  strange,  but,  during  the  short  space  which  preceded  the 
arrival  of  Adrienne,  the  different  actors  in  this  scene  seemed  disturbed 
and  embarrassed,  as  if  they  somehow  dreaded  her  appearance. 

At  the  end  of  a  minute,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  entered  into 
her  aunt's  apartment 


CHAPTER   XL. 


THE  SKIRMISH. 

As  she  entered,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  threw  into  an  arm- 
chair her  grey  beaver  hat,  which  she  had  put  on  to  cross  the  garden, 
and  displayed  her  beautiful  golden  hair,  which  fell  on  each  side  of  her 
face  in  long  and  graceful  curls,  and  was  twisted  up  in  a  large  knot  at 
the  back  of  her  head. 

Adrienne  presented  herself  without  boldness,  but  yet  perfectly  self- 
possessed  ;  her  countenance  was  smiling  and  animated,  and  her  large 
black  eyes  seemed  more  than  usually  sparkling.  When  she  saw  the 
Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  she  made  a  slight  movement  of  surprise,  and  a  slight 
derisive  smile  passed  over  her  ruby  lips.  Having  made  a  kind  nod  of 
the  head  to  the  doctor,  and  passed  in  front  of  Baron  Tripeaud  without 
looking  at  him,  she  saluted  the  princess  with  a  half-curtsey,  in  the  best 
possible  taste. 

Although  the  appearance  and  carriage  of  Mademoiselle  de  Car- 
doville were  highly  distingues,  in  the  best  style,  and  particularly 
remarkable  for  their  womanly  grace,  yet  there  was  perceptible  a 
something  resolute,  independent,  and  haughty,  very  rare  amongst 
females,  and  especially  young  ladies  at  her  age ;  and  her  movements, 
without  being  abrupt,  yet  had  nothing  of  constraint,  stiffness,  or 
formality — they  were,  in  fact,  free  and  independent,  like  her  disposition; 
and  it  was  easy  to  see  in  her  the  full  circulation  of  life-blood  and 
youth,  and  to  judge  that  this  organization,  so  entirely  open,  loyal, 
and  decided,  had  never  as  yet  submitted  to  the  restraint  of  affected 
rigour. 

It  was  strange  that  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny,  although  a  man  of  the 
world,  of  great  wit,  a  churchman  remarkable  for  his  eloquence,  and 
especially  as  a  man  of  control  and  authority,  experienced  an  unac- 
countable discomfort,  an  inexpressible  and  almost  painful  restraint,  in 
presence  of  Adrienne  de  Cardoville.  He,  always  so  much  under  self- 
control  ;  he,  habituated  to  the  exercise  of  unbounded  power ;  he  who 
had  often,  in  the  name  of  his  Order,  treated  on  terms  of  equality  with 
crowned  heads,  felt  himself  embarrassed,  and  ill  at  ease  with  himself, 
in  the  presence  of  this  young  girl,  who  was  as  remarkable  for  her 
frankness  as  for  her  wit  and  biting  satire.  Yet  as  men  who  are 
accustomed  to  impose  on  others  are  close  on  hating  those  persons, 


276  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

who,  instead  of  submitting  to  their  influence,  jest  at  and  embarrass 
them,  so  it  was  not  precisely  a  feeling  of  affection  which  the  marquis 
experienced  for  the  niece  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier. 

For  a  long  time,  and  contrary  to  his  usual  practice,  he  had  ceased 
to  try  with  Adrienne  that  seductive  power,  that  fascination  of  language, 
to  which  was  mainly  owing  the  irresistibility  of  his  demeanour;  but 
with  her  he  was  cold,  short,  and  serious,  and  assumed  a  frigid  and 
haughty  dignity,  and  austere  formality,  which  utterly  paralysed  the 
amiable  qualities  with  which  he  was  gifted,  and  which  usually  served 
his  purpose  so  well  and  satisfactorily.  Adrienne  was  greatly  amused 
at  all  this,  but  most  imprudently,  for  the  most  vulgar  motives  very  often 
produce  implacable  hatred. 

Having  thus  premised,  the  different  feelings  and  interests  which 
actuated  the  several  actors  in  this  scene  may  be  easily  penetrated. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  was  seated  in  a  large  arm-chair  at  the 
corner  of  the  fire-place. 

The  Marquis  cTAigrigny  was  standing  upright  before  the  fire. 

Doctor  Baleinier,  seated  near  a  writing-desk,  had  resumed  his 
perusal  of  the  Baron  Tripeaud's  biography. 

The  baron  seemed  to  be  very  attentively  examining  a  picture  on  a 
scriptural  subject  hung  against  the  wall. 

"  You  sent  for  me,  aunt,  to  talk  over  some  important  matters  ?  " 
said  Adrienne,  breaking  the  embarrassing  silence  which  had  pervaded 
the  salon  since  her  entrance. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  princess,  with  a  cold  and  stern 
air;  "and  it  is  a  conversation  on  a  most  serious  matter." 

"  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  aunt.     Shall  we  go  into  your  library  ?" 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  that,  we  can  talk  here."  Then  address- 
ing the  marquis,  the  doctor,  and  the  baron,  she  said,  "  Gentlemen,  will 
you  please  to  be  seated." 

They  accordingly  took  their  places  round  the  cabinet  table  of  the 
princess. 

"  May  I  inquire,  aunt,"  asked  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  with 
surprise,  "  in  what  manner  our  conversation  can  possibly  concern  these 
gentlemen  ?  " 

"  These  gentlemen  are  old  friends  of  the  family ;  all  that  can  affect 
you  interests  them,  and  their  counsels  ought  to  be  listened  to,  and 
received  by  you  with  respect." 

"I  have  no  doubt,  aunt,  of  the  very  particular  friendship  of 
M.  d'Aigrigny  for  our  family,  still  less  can  I  doubt  the  profound  and 
disinterested  devotion  of  M.  Tripcaud;  M.  Baleinier  is  one  of  my  old 
friends :  but  before  I  accept  of  these  gentlemen  as  spectators,  or,  if 
you  like  better,  aunt,  as  confidants  of  our  conversation,  I  wish  to 
be  instructed  as  to  the  subject  which  is  to  be  discussed  before  them." 

"  I  thought,  mademoiselle,  that  amongst  your  singular  pretensions 
you  had  at  least  frankness  and  courage." 

"  Oh,  aunt ! "  replied  Adrienne,  smiling  with  mock  humility,  "  I 
have  no  greater  pretensions  to  frankness  and  courage  than  you  have  to 
sincerity  and  goodness ;  let  us,  therefore,  agree,  once  for  all,  that  we 
are  what  we  are — without  pretension." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  in  a  dry  tone.  "  For  a 
long  time  1  have  been  accustomed  to  the  displays  of  your  independent 


THK  SKIRMISH.  277 

spirit,  and  I  think  that,  frank  and  courageous  as  you  are  said  to  be, 
you  ought  not  to  fear  speaking  out  before  persons,  as  serious  and 
respectable  as  these  gentlemen,  as  you  would  if  we  two  were  alone." 

"  It  is,  then,  an  interrogatory  in  form  which  I  am  to  undergo  ;  and 
on  what  point  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  an  interrogatory  ;  but,  as  I  have  the  -right  to  watch  over 
you,  and  as  you  abuse  my  weak  compliance  with  your  humours  more 
and  more,  I  am  desirous  of  putting  au  end  to  that  which  has  lasted 
too  long  already  ;  and  I  am  also  desirous,  before  these  friends  of  our 
family,  to  signify  to  you  my  irrevocable  resolution  a*  to  the  future. 
And  in  the  first  place  let  me  tell  you,  that  up  to  this  period  you 
have  entertained  a  very  false  and  imperfect  idea  of  my  power  over 
you." 

"I  assure  you,  aunt,  that  I  have  never  entertained  any  idea,  false 
or  true  ;  for  it  is  a  point  on  which  I  have  never  thought  at  all." 

"That  was  my  fault:  I  ought,  instead  of  complying  with  your 
fancies,  to  have  made  you  rather  to  feel  more  severely  my  full  authority. 
But  the  moment  has  come  when  you  must  be  made  to  submit :  the 
heavy  blame  of  my  friends  has  opened  my  eyes  before  it  is  too  late. 
Your  disposition  is  self-willed,  independent,  and  headstrong,  and  it 
must  be  altered  I  tell  you;  and  I,  moreover,  tell  you  it  shall  be 
altered." 

At  these  words,  harshly  spoken,  and  before  persons  not  allied  to 
her,  and  whose  severity  seemed  wholly  uncalled  for,  Adrienne  raised 
her  head  haughtily  ;  but  mastering  her  emotion,  she  replied,  with  a 
smile, 

"  You  say,  aunt,  that  I  shall  alter  :  that  will  not  surprise  me.  We 
have  seen  conversions  quite  as  singular." 

The  princess  bit  her  lip. 

"  A  sincere  conversion  is  never  singular,  as  you  term  it,  made- 
moiselle," said  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  coldly ;  "  but,  on  the  contrary, 
very  meritorious  and  most  exemplary." 

"  Exemplary  !"  retorted  Adrienne.  "  That 's  as  it  may  be  ;  for,  if 
faults  are  converted  into  vices ." 

"  What  mean  you,  mademoiselle  ?  "  exclaimed  the  princess. 

"  I  speak  of  myself,  aunt :  you  reproach  me  with  being  inde- 
pendent and  resolute ;  if  by  accident  I  were  to  become  hypocritical 
and  wicked,  why,  really  I  would  rather  preserve  my  dear  little  naugh- 
tinesses, which  I  love  as  spoiled  children.  I  know  what  I  am,  but  not 
what  I  might  then  become." 

"  Still,  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,"  said  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  with  a 
sententious  and  conceited  air,  "you  cannot  deny  that  a  conversion  • " 

"  I  believe  that  M.  Tripeaud  is  extremely  strong  on  the  conversion 
of  every  kind  of  thing,  into  every  sort  of  profit,  by  every  possible 
means,"  said  Adrienne,  in  a  marked  and  disdainful  tone  :  "  but  the 
subject  before  us  is  not  his  business." 

"  But,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  financier,  taking  courage  from  a 
look  of  the  princess,  "  you  forget  that  I  have  the  honor  to  be  your 
sub-guardian,  and  that " 

"  It  is  perfectly  true  that  M.  Tripeaud  ha.s  that  honour,  and  I 
never  could  clearly  understand  wherefore,"  said  Adrienne,  with  increased 
hauteur,  and  not  even  looking  at  the  baron  ;  "  but  at  present  we  are. 


278  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

not  guessing  riddles.  I  beg,  therefore,  aunt,  to  learn  the  motive  and 
the  end  of  this  meeting." 

"  You  shall  be  satisfied,  mademoiselle ;  I  will  explain  myself  in 
a  way  perfectly  clear  and  precise.  You  will  learn  the  line  of  conduct 
which  you  must  henceforward  pursue,  and  if  you  refuse  to  submit 
with  obedience  and  respect  due  to  my  commands,  I  shall  then  see  what 
I  have  to  do." 

It  is  impossible  to  depict  the  imperious  tone,  the  harsh  demeanour, 
of  the  princess,  as  she  said  these  words,  which  were  enough  to  startle 
a  young  girl  accustomed,  up  to  that  time,  to  live  and  do  as  she 
pleased.  Yet,  perhaps,  contrary  to  the  expectation  of  Madame  Saint- 
Dizier,  instead  of  replying  with  temper,  Adrienne  looked  her  full  in 
the  face,  and  said  laughingly, — 

"  Really,  then,  it  is  a  decided  declaration  of  war ;  this  becomes 
amusing." 

"  It  is  no  declaration  of  war,"  said  the  abbe,  in  a  severe  tone, 
wounded  by  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville's  expressions. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  1' Abbe  !"  she  replied;  "you,  an  old  colonel,  are 
very  hard  on  a  jest!  you,  who  owe  so  much  to  war!  you  who,  thanks 
to  war,  have  commanded  a  French  regiment,  after  having  for  so  long 
a  time  fought  against  France — in  order,  no  doubt,  that  you  might  know 
alike  the  strength  and  weakness  of  your  enemies  I " 

At  these  words,  which  called  up  painful  remembrances,  the  marquis 
turned  red  and  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  princess  exclaimed, — 

"  Really,  mademoiselle,  this  conduct  is  most  intolerable  1 " 

"  Is  it,  aunt? — then  I  will  confess  my  error,  and  will  not  even  say 
that  it  is  amusing,  for,  really,  it  is  not  at  all  so  ;  but,  at  least,  it  is 
curious,  and,  perhaps,  even,"  added  the  young  lady,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  —  "perhaps,  even  rather  bold:  but  I  like  boldness.  Since, 
then,  we  are  on  this  point,  and  are  to  decide  upon  a  course  of  conduct 
which  I  am  to  comply  with,  under  penalty  of "  then  checking  her- 
self, and  addressing  her  aunt,  "  Under  what  penalty,  aunt  ?  " 

"  You  will  learn :  continue." 

"  I  will  then,  before  these  gentlemen,  deliver  to  you,  in  a  clear  and 
precise  manner,  my  determination.  As  it  required  time  before  it  was 
ripe  for  execution,  I  have  not  mentioned  it  to  you  before  ;  for,  as  you 
know,  it  is  not  my  custom  to  say  *  I  will  do  this,"  but  '  I  have  done  so 
and  so.' " 

"  Certainly ;  and  it  is  this  habit  of  culpable  independence  that  you 
must  break  through." 

"  It  was  not  my  intention  to  have  informed  you  of  my  resolution 
for  the  present,  but  I  cannot  resist  the  pleasure  of  telling  you  a  portion 
of  it  to-day,  as  you  seem  so  desirous  to  learn  and  approve  of  it.  But 
I  beg  of  you,  aunt,  first  to  speak;  it  might  so  happen  that  our  opinions 
are  completely  accordant" 

"  I  like  better  to  find  you  in  this  mood,"  said  the  princess ;  "  I  find 
in  you  the  courage  of  your  pride  and  your  contempt  of  all  authority. 
You  talk  of  boldness,  your  own  is  excessive." 

••  I  am  at  least  fully  determined  to  do  what  others,  through  weak- 
ness, unfortunately,  dare  not  do ;  I  will  dare.  This,  I  think,  is  clear 
and  precise  enough." 

"  Very  clear — very  precise,"  said  the  princess,  exchanging  a  look 


THE  REVOLT.  279 

of  intelligence  and  satisfaction  with  the  other  actors  in^this"  scene. 
"  Positions  thus  established  very  much  simplify  matters.  I£ought, 
though,  to  warn  you,  for  your  own  sake,  that  this  is  a  very  serious 
affair — more  so  than  you  think,  and  that  there  is  but  one  way  in  which 
you  can  dispose  me  to  be  indulgent ;  and  that  is,  by  substituting  for 
the  arrogance  and  habitual  irony  of  your  language  the  modesty  and 
respect  which  beseem  a  young  lady." 

Adrienne  smiled,  but  made  no  reply. 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  some  looks  exchanged  again  between 
the  princess  and  her  three  friends,  which  implied  that  a  serious  battle 
was  about  to  follow  these  skirmishings,  more  or  less  lively. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  had  too  much  penetration,  too  much 
sagacity,  not  to  observe  that  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  attached  very 
serious  importance  to  this  decisive  conversation ;  but  the  young  lady 
did  not  understand  how  her  aunt  could  hope  to  impose  on  her  her 
absolute  will ;  threats  of  having  recourse  to  means  of  coercion  seemed 
to  her  ridiculous.  Nevertheless,  knowing  the  vindictive  character  of 
her  aunt,  the  dark  power  she  wielded,  the  terrible  vengeance  she  had 
sometimes  taken  ;  reflecting,  also,  that  men,  in  the  positions  of  the 
marquis  and  the  doctor,  could  not  be  called  in  to  assist  at  such  an 
interview  but  from  weighty  motives,  the  young  lady  reflected  for  a 
moment  before  she  gave  battle. 

But  very  speedily,  for  the  very  reason  of  her  vague  suspicions  of 
some  danger  at  hand,  she,  so  far  from  succumbing,  resolved  to  face  and 
brave  her,  exaggerating  if  possible  the  independence  of  her  own  ideas, 
and  maintaining  to  the  last,  in  spite  of  all  and  every  thing,  the  deter- 
mination which  she,  on  her  side,  meant  to  notify  to  the  Princess  de 
Saint-Dizier. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  REVOLT. 

"MADEMOISELLE,"  said  the  princess  to  Adrienne  de  Cardoville, 
in  a  cold  and  severe  tone,  "  I  owe  it  to  myself,  I  owe  it  to  these 
gentlemen,  to  recall,  in  a  few  words,  the  events  which  have  been  pass- 
ing now  for  some  time.  Six  months  ago,  after  your  mourning  for 
your  father,  and  when  you  were  eighteen  years  of  age,  you  asked  my 
leave  to  enjoy  your  fortune  and  be  emancipated  from  control.  I  was 
weak  enough  to  comply.  You  wished  to  leave  this  hotel  and  establish 
yourself  in  the  pavilion  in  the  garden,  away  from  all  surveillance,  and 
you  then  began  a  series  of  extravagances,  each  more  excessive  than 
the  other.  Instead  of  contenting  yourself  with  one  or  two  waiting- 
maids  taken  from  the  class  in  which  they  are  usually  found,  you  have 
selected  companions,  whom  you  have  dressed  in  a  manner  as  whim- 
sical as  it  is  extravagant;  whilst  you,  in  the  solitude  of  your  pavilion, 
have,  it  is  true,  attired  yourself  in  every  costume  of  bygone  times  in 
turns.  Your  caprices,  your  follies,  have  been  boundless  and  un- 
reasonable ;  not  only  have  you  never  fulfilled  your  religious  duties, 
but  yon  have  had  the  audacity  to  profane  one  of  your  salons  by 
erecting  some  sort  of  a  pagan  altar,  in  which  there  is  a  marble  group  re- 


280  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

presenting  a  young  man  and  young  woman  (the  princess  pronounced  these 
words  as  if  they  burnt  her  lips)  ;  it  is,  perhaps,  called  an  object  of  art, 
but  no  object  of  art  could  be  more  unfitly  placed  than  in  the  apartment 
of  a  young  person  of  your  age.  You  have  passed  whole  days  entirely 
secluded  and  alone,  without  receiving  any  person  ;  and  Dr.  Baleinier, 
the  only  one  of  my  friends  whose  confidence  you  have  preserved, 
having  at  length  obtained  admittance  to  you,  has  frequently  found 
you  in  such  a  high  state  of  excitement,  that  he  has  had  the  greatest 
fears  for  your  health.  You  have  always  chosen  to  go  out  alone, 
without  being  in  any  way  accountable  to  any  person  for  your  actions; 
and  at  length  it  has  pleased  you  at  last,  upon  all  occasions,  to  set  your 
own  will  above  my  authority.  All  this  is  true,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  This  picture  of  the  past  is  not  very  flattering,"  said  Adrienne, 
with  a  smile ;  "  but  I  will  not  say  that  I  could  not  recognise  any  of  the 
features." 

"  Well  then,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  speaking 
with  much  deliberation,  "you  confess  that  all  the  facts  which  your 
aunt  has  adduced  are  scrupulously  true  ?  " 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  on  Adrienne,  as  if  her  reply  were  of 
extreme  importance. 

"  I  should  think,  sir,  that  I  am  accustomed  to  live  so  openly  that 
such  a  question  is  perfectly  useless." 

"  These  facts,  then,  are  confessed,"  said  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  turn- 
ing to  the  doctor  and  the  baron. 

"  These  facts,  remain  completely  substantiated,"  said  M.  Tripeaud, 
with  a  consequential  air. 

"  May  I  inquire,  aunt,"  said  Adrienne,  "  the  use  of  this  long 
preamble  ?  " 

"This  long  preamble,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  princess,  with 
dignity,  "  serves  to  reveal  the  past  so  that  it  may  operate  upon  the 
future." 

"  This  is  really  something,  my  dear  aunt,  a  little  in  the  style  of 
the  mysterious  utterings  of  the  Cumcean  sibyl.  Something  very  terrible 
must  be  to  follow." 

"  Perhaps  so,  mademoiselle;  for  nothing  can  be  more  terrible  for 
certain  dispositions  than  obedience  and  duty,-  and  your  disposition  is  of 
that  class  which  is  inclined  to  rebellion." 

"  I  confess  the  fact  undisguisedly,  aunt ;  and  so  it  will  be  until  the 
time  when  I  can  cherish  obedience  and  respect  duty." 

"  Whether  you  cherish  or  respect  my  orders  or  not  is  of  little  con- 
sequence, mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  in  a  harsh  and  brief  tone  ; 
"but  from  this  very  day,  this  very  moment,  you  must  begin  to  sub- 
mit yourself  entirely  and  blindly  to  my  will, — in  a  word,  you  shall 
do  nothing  without  my  permission  :  it  must  and  shall  be  so." 

Adrienne  looked  steadfastly  at  her  aunt  for  a  minute,  and  then  burst 
into  a  fit  of  loud  and  real  laughter,  which  eckoed  through  the  large 
apartment. 

M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  Baron  Tripeaud  made  gestures  of  indignation. 

The  princess  looked  at  her  niece  with  an  angry  air. 
The  doctor  raised  his  eyes  to  Heaven,  and,  clasping  his  hands  to- 
gether over  his  stomach,  sighed  with  much  compunction. 

"  Mademoiselle,  such  bursts  of  laughter  are  very  ill-timed,"  said 


THE  REVOLT.  281 

the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny;  "the  language  of  your  aunt  is  most  serious, 
and  deserves  a  very  different  reception." 

"Oh,  sir!"  said  Adrienne,  repressing  her  mirth  ;  "  whose  fault  is 
it  if  I  laugh  so  loud?  How  could  I  remain  unmoved,  when  I  heard 
my  aunt  speak  of  a  blind  submission  to  her  orders  ?  Can  the  swallow, 
accustomed  to  fly  freely  through  the  air,  to  enjoy  the  full  sunlight, 
live,  exist,  in  a  mole-hill  ?  " 

At  this  reply,  M.  d'Aigrigny  affected  to  regard  the  other  members 
of  this  kind  of  family  consultation  with  profound  astonishment. 

"  A  swallow  !  what  does  she  mean  ? "  asked  the  abbe  of  the 
baron,  making  him  a  sign  which  the  other  understood. 

"  I  really  do  not  comprehend,"  replied  Tripeaud,  looking  in  his 
turn  at  the  doctor;  "  she  talks  of  a  mole — I  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing — never,  really  ! " 

"  This  then,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  appearing  to  partici- 
pate in  the  surprise  of  the  other  persons  ;  "  this,  then,  is  the  reply  you 
make  to  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Adrienne,  astonished  in  her  turn  that  they 
should  affect  not  to  understand  the  figure  of  speech  she  had  made  use 
of,  as  she  was  often  in  the  habit  of  using  poetic  and  pictorial  similes. 

"  Really,  madame,  really  I "  said  Dr.  Baleinier,  smiling  blandly, 
"  we  must  be  indulgent ;  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  has  such  a 
lively  disposition,  such  a  mirthful,  excitable  temperament — she  is 
really  the  most  delightful  little  madcap  I  ever  knew,  and  I  have  told 
her  so  a  hundred  times  in  my  capacity  of  an  old  friend,  who  is  allowed 
to  say " 

"  I  can  perfectly  comprehend  that  your  regard  for  mademoiselle 
makes  you  very  indulgent ;  but  it  is  not  the  less  true,  doctor,"  said 
M.  d'Aigrigny,  appearing  to  reproach  the  physician  for  taking  part 
with  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  "  that  these  are  most  wild  replies 
when  there  is  a  discussion  on  questions  so  grave  and  serious." 

"  The  misfortune  is,  that  mademoiselle  does  not  comprehend  the 
seriousness  of  this  conference,"  said  the  princess,  with  a  severe  air. 
"  Perhaps  she  will  comprehend  it  now,  when  I  shall  tell  her  my  com- 
mands." 

"  Let  us  hear  those  commands,  aunt." 

And  Adrienne,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  further  side  of  the 
table  opposite  to  her  aunt,  placed  her  little  rosy  chin  in  the  hollow  of  her 
beautiful  hand,  with  an  air  of  graceful  mockery  which  was  charming. 

"  From  to-morrow,"  replied  the  princess,  "you  will  quit  the  pavilion 
in  which  you  dwell.  You  will  dismiss  your  women — you  will  return 
and  occupy  two  rooms  here,  which  have  no  approach  but  through  my 
apartment — you  will  never  go  out  alone — you  will  accompany  me  to 
religious  duties — your  freedom  will  cease,  in  consequence  of  extra- 
vagances clearly  and  distinctly  made  out.  I  shall  take  upon  myself 
the  entire  arrangement  of  all  your  expenses;  I  shall  order  your 
dresses,  in  order  that  you  may  be  modestly  dressed  as  you  ought  to  be ; 
and  in  fact,  until  you  attain  your  majority,  which  is  not  now  indefi- 
nitely deferred,  thanks  to  the  intervention  of  a  family  consultation,  you 
will  not  have  any  sum  of  money  at  your  command.  Such  is  my  will." 

"  And  certainly  your  resolution,  Madame  la  Princesse,  cannot  be 
too  much  applauded,"  said  the  Baron  Tripeaud.  "  And  you  must  be 


282  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

supported  in  displaying  the  greatest  firmness,  for  such  conduct  ought 
to  be  put  a  stop  to." 

"  It  is  more  than  time  to  terminate  such  scandalous  behaviour  ! " 
added  the  abbe. 

••  Caprice,  excitement  of  habit,  however,  may  palliate  many 
things,"  said  the  doctor,  with  an  hypocritical  air. 

"  Unquestionably,  doctor,"  replied  the  princess  dryly  to  the  doctor, 
who  played  his  part  admirably ;  "  but  that  is  in  reference  to  disposi- 
tions which  deserve  it." 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  expressed  herself  in  a  precise  and 
firm  manner,  and  seemed  convinced  of  the  possibility  of  executing  all 
she  had  menaced  her  niece  with.  M.  Tripeaud  and  M.  d'Aigrigny 
gave  their  full  assent  to  all  the  princess  had  said.  Adrienne  then 
began  to  perceive  that  there  was  really  something  serious  in  agitation, 
and  then  her  gaiety  gave  way  to  bitter  irony,  and  an  expression  of 
aroused  independence. 

She  rose  suddenly  from  her  seat,  her  countenance  was  somewhat 
suffused,  whilst  her  nostrils  expanded,  her  eye  glistened,  and  raising 
her  head,  she  shook  her  bright  and  flowing  hair  with  a  gesture  full  of 
natural  dignity,  and,  after  a  moment's  silence,  replied  to  her  aunt  in 
an  emphatic  tone : 

"  You,  madarne,  have  spoken  of  the  past ;  I  will  now  say  a  few 
words,  to  which  you  have  urged  me — yes,  urged  me,  and  I  regret 
to  say  it.  I  left  your  dwelling  because  it  was  impossible  that  I  could 
any  longer  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  dark  hypocrisy  and  basest  perfidy." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  "  such  language  is  as 
violent  as  it  is  unreasonable  !  " 

"  Sir,  since  you  interrupt  me  I  will  say  two  words  to  you,"  said 
Adrienne  peremptorily,  and  looking  steadfastly  at  the  abbe.  "  What 
examples  did  I  find  in  my  aunt's  abode  ?  " 

"  Excellent  examples  !  mademoiselle." 

"  Excellent,  sir?  Was  it  because  I  saw  there  daily  her  conversion, 
the  accomplice  of  your  own  ?" 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  forget  yourself !  "  said  the  princess,  pale 
with  rage. 

"  Madame,  I  do  not  forget ;  I  remember,  as  every  body  else  must. 
No  more  !  I  had  no  relative  from  whom  to  seek  an  asylum — I  wished 
to  live  alone — I  desired  to  have  my  income,  because  I  would  rather 
spend  it  myself  than  allow  it  to  be  wasted  by  M.  Tripeaud." 

"  Mademoiselle  I "  exclaimed  the  baron,  "I  cannot  understand 
how  you  can  allow  yourself " 

"Enough,  sir!"  said  Adrienne,  imposing  silence  on  him  by  a 
gesture  of  the  most  cutting  hauteur.  "  I  am  speaking  of  you,  and  not 
to  you." 

Adrienne  continued : 

"  I  resolved,  therefore,  to  expend  my  revenue  according  to  my 
own  tastes ;  I  have  embellished  the  retreat  I  selected.  To  waiting 
maids  ugly  and  ill-informed,  I  have  preferred  good-looking  young  girls, 
well  brought  up,  though  poor ;  their  education  not  permitting  me  to 
put  them  to  domestic  drudgery,  I  have  made  their  situations  agree- 
able and  light :  they  do  not  serve  me,  they  render  me  service ;  I  pay 
them,  but  it  is  I  who  am  grateful.  These  are  niceties  which  I  know 


THE  REVOLT.  283 

you  do  not  comprehend,  madame.  Instead  of  seeing  them  badly  or 
ungracefully  dressed,  I  have  given  them  attire  which  suits  their  hand- 
some faces,  because  I  like  what  is  young  and  handsome  ;  and  if  I  dress 
in  any  peculiar  way,  that  is  nothing  to  any  body  but  my  looking-glass. 
I  go  out  alone,  because  I  like  to  go  wherever  my  fancy  may  lead  me. 
I  do  not  go  to  mass — true.  If  I  had  a  mother  alive,  I  would  tell  her 
what  my  devotions  were,  and  she  would  embrace  me  tenderly.  I 
have  raised  a  pagan  altar  to  Youth  and  Beauty — that  is  true  :  because 
I  adore  God  in  every  thing  that  is  beautiful,  good,  noble,  and  great, 
and  my  heart  from  morning  to  night  repeats  this  fervent  and  sincere 
prayer :  «  Thanks,  Almighty  Father  !  thanks.'  M.  Baleiuier,  you  say, 
madame,  has  often  found  me  in  my  solitude,  a  prey  to  strange  excite- 
ment— that  is  true,  also;  because  at  such  moments,  escaping  by 
thought  from  all  that  makes  the  present  so  hateful,  so  painful,  so 
repulsive,  I  have  sought  refuge  in  the  future,  and  then  I  have 
conjured  up  magic  horizons — then  I  have  seen  visions  so  glorious  that 
I  have  been  carried  away  in  sublime  and  divine  ecstasy,  and  belong  no 
more  to  this  earth." 

As  she  pronounced  these  words  with  much  enthusiasm,  the  phy- 
siognomy of  Adrienne  seemed  to  glow  with  inspiration,  and  at  the 
moment  she  was  out  of  the  world  which  existed  around  and  about  her. 

"  It  is  then,"  she  continued,  with  increasing  excitement,  "  I 
breathe  a  pure,  vivifying,  and  free  air — oh,  yes,  free  1  free  I  and  so 
wholesome,  so  congenial  to  the  soul !  Yes,  instead  of  seeing  my  sisters 
painfully  submitted  to  an  egotistical,  humiliating,  and  brutal  control, 
to  which  they  owe  the  seducing  vices  of  slavery,  sleek  fraud,  seducing 
perfidy,  cajoling  mendacity,  despicable  resignation,  odious  obedience, 
I  see  them,  those  noble  sisters,  worthy  and  sincere,  because  they  are 
free— rfaithful  and  devoted,  because  they  have  a  choice ;  neither  despotic 
nor  servile,  because  they  have  no  master  to  rule  or  flatter;  cherished  and 
respected  indeed,  because  they  could  withdraw  from  a  faithless  hand 
a  hand  faithfully  given.  Oh,  my  sisters  !  my  sisters  !  I  see  them  ; 
they  are  not  only  comforting  visions,  they  are  also  sacred  hopes  ! " 

Led  away  in  spite  of  herself  by  the  excitement  of  her  ideas,  Adri- 
enne kept  silent  for  a  moment,  that  she  might  alight  on  earth  again, 
and  did  not  remark  that  the  actors  in  this  scene  looked  at  each  other 
with  a  delighted  air. 

"  But  what  she  says  is  really  delightful,  beautiful !"  murmured 
the  doctor  in  the  princess's  ear  ;  "  if  she  had  arranged  it  with  us,  she 
could  not  have  spoken  better." 

"  It  is  only  by  exciting  her  through  a  course  of  extreme  severity 
that  she  will  touch  the  point  to  which  we  must  drive  her"  added 
M.  d'Aigrigny. 

But  it  would  appear,  that  the  irritation  of  Adrienne  was  dissipated 
when  it  came  in  collision  with  the  generous  feelings  that  pervaded 
her. 

Addressing  M.  Baleinier,  she  said : 

"  But,  doctor,  it  must  be  confessed  that  nothing  is  so  ridiculous  as 
to  give  way  to  the  enjoyment  of  ceitain  thoughts  in  the  presence  of 
persons  incapable  of  appreciating  them.  I  have  given  you  a  fine 
opportunity  for  deriding  that  excitement  of  temperament  with  which 


284  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

you  sometimes  reproach  me ;  and  I,  to  allow  myself  to  be  led  away  at 
so  serious  a  moment,  for  it  appears  this  is  a  very  serious  moment ! 
But  then,  my  good  M.  Baleinier,  when  an  idea  comes  into  my  mind, 
it  is  as  impossible  for  me  not  to  follow  it  up  as  it  was  impossible  that 
I  should  not  run  after  butterflies  when  I  was  a  good  little  girl." 

"  And  Heaven  only  knows  whither  those  brilliant  butterflies  of 
every  hue,  which  came  across  your  mind,  have  led  you.  Ah,  the  mad 
head — the  foolish  fancy !"  said  M.  Baleinier,  smiling  with  a  paternal 
and  indulgent  air ;  "  when  will  you  be  as  reasonable  as  you  are 
charming?" 

"  From  this  instant,  doctor,"  replied  Adrienne,  "  I  will  at  once 
abandon  my  reveries  for  realities,  and  speak  a  language  perfectly  posi- 
tive, as  you  shall  hear." 

Then  addressing  her  aunt,  she  continued : 

"  You  have  communicated  to  me,  madame,  your  will ;  I  will  now 
communicate  mine : 

"  In  less  than  a  week  I  shall  leave  the  pavilion  I  inhabit  for  a 
mansion  which  I  have  fitted  up  according  to  my  taste,  and  I  shall  live 
there  as  I  please.  I  have  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  am  therefore 
not  accountable  for  my  actions  to  any  person  but  myself." 

"  Really,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  shrugging  her  shoulders, 
"  you  are  talking  nonsense !  you  forget  that  society  has  imperscriptible 
rights  of  morality,  and  that  we  are  empowered  to  see  them  enforced; 
and,  rely  on  it,  we  will  do  so." 

"  Well,  then,  madame,  it  must  be  you,  then,  and  M.  d'Aigrigny,  and 
M.  Tripeaud,  who  represent  the  morality  of  society.  That  is  an  inge- 
nious idea,  certainly.  Is  it  because  M.  Tripeaud  has  considered  I 
must  confess  my  fortune  as  his  own  ?  Is  it  because  " 

"  Really,  really,  mademoiselle  ! "  cried  Tripeaud. 

"  Presently,  madame,"  said  Adrienne  to  her  aunt,  without  deigning 
a  reply  to  the  baron,  "  as  the  opportunity  serves,  1  shall  take  leave  to 
ask  of  you  information  as  to  certain  interests  which,  I  believe,  have 
been  concealed  from  me  until  now——" 

At  these  words  of  Adrienne,  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  princess  were 
startled.  They  exchanged  looks  of  pain  and  uneasiness.  Adrienne 
did  not  remark  it,  and  continued : 

"  But  that  we  may  come  to  the  point,  madame,  I  will  be  explicit. 
I  will  live  precisely  as  I  may  choose.  I  do  not  think,  if  I  were  a  man, 
that  at  my  age  they  would  inflict  upon  me  the  severe  and  humiliating 
system  of  tutelage  which  you  desire  to  impose,  for  having  lived  as  I 
have  lived  hitherto — that  is  to  say,  honourably,  freely,  and  generously, 
in  sight  of  all." 

"  The  idea  is  absurd  !  'tis  madness !  "  exclaimed  the  princess.  "  It 
is  to  countenance  demoralisation,  and  the  forgetfulness  of  all  modesty 
to  the  last  degree,  to  desire  to  lead  such  a  life  I" 

"  Then,  madame,"  said  Adrienne,  "  what  opinion  have  you  of 
many  poor  girls  of  humble  origin,  orphans  like  myself,  who  live  as  free 
and  alone  as  I  mean  to  do  ?  They  have  not  had,  as  I  have  had,  a  refined 
education,  which  elevates  the  soul  and  purifies  the  heart.  They  have 
not,  as  I  have,  riches,  which  defend  from  all  the  bad  temptations  of 
misery,  and  yet  they  live  honest  and  proud  in  their  distress." 


THE  REVOLT.  285 

"  Vice  and  virtue  have  no  existence  for  such  low-lived  creatures  I" 
exclaimed  the  Baron  Tripeaud,  with  an  expression  of  harshness  and 
fierce  contempt. 

"  Madame,  you  would  turn  away  one  of  your  lackeys  who.  dared 
to  use  such  language  before  you,"  said  Adrienne  to  her  aunt,  unable 
to  repress  her  disgust ;  "  and  yet  you  compel  me  to  hear  such  things  !" 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  pressed  Tripeaud's  knee  under  the  table, 
who  had  spoken  in  the  princess's  salon  as  he  would  at  the  Exchange, 
and  said  quickly,  to  repair  the  baron's  coarseness, 

"  Mademoiselle,  there  is  no  comparison  between  such  people  and 
a  young  lady  of  your  station." 

"  For  a  Catholic,  M.  1'Abbe",  the  distinction  is  not  very  Christian- 
Jike,"  replied  Adrienne. 

"  I  know  the  force  of  my  words,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  abbe, 
formally ;  "  and  the  independent  life  you  would  lead,  against  all 
reason,  must  involve  sad  consequences  for  the  future:  for,  perhaps, 
some  day  or  other,  your  family  may  wish  to  marry  you,  and  then " 

"  I  will  spare  my  family  that  trouble,  sir.  If  1  desire  to  marry,  I 
will  marry  myself — that,  I  think,  is  but  fair :  though,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  am  but  little  tempted  to  wear  the  heavy  chain  which  selfishness  and 
brutality  rivets  round  our  necks." 

"  It  is  really  quite  unbecoming,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess, 
"  to  speak  thus  slightingly  of  this  Institution  !  " 

"  Before  you,  madame,  assuredly ;  and  I  pray  you  to  forgive  me 
for  having  shocked  you.  You  are  afraid  that  my  independent  manner 
of  living  will  frighten  away  my  suitors — that  is  another  reason  why  I 
will  persist  in  my  independence,  for  I  have  a  horror  of  suitors.  All 
I  desire  is  to  frighten  them  away,  and  give  them  a  bad  opinion  of  me, 
and  to  effect  that  there  is  no  better  way  than  to  appear  to  live  exactly 
as  they  live  themselves.  And  so  I  rely  on  my  whims,  my  follies,  and  my 
cherished  defects  and  faults,  to  preserve  me  from  the  tiresome  attentions 
of  being  sought  after  in  marriage." 

"  You  shall  be  perfectly  satisfied  on  that  point,  mademoiselle,"  re- 
-  plied  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  "  if,  unfortunately  (and  it  is  much  to  be 
feared),  the  report  should  spread  abroad  of  your  having  so  entirely  dis- 
carded all  regard  to  appearances  and  propriety,  as  to  be  seen  return- 
ing home  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  (as  I  am  told  you  have  been), 
though,  I  confess,  I  neither  can  nor  dare  give  credit  to  such  an  enormity." 

"  Nay,  madame,  but  you  are  wrong  in  refusing  your  belief ;  for 
it  is " 

"  Then  you  confess  it ! "  exclaimed  the  princess. 

"  I  never  disown  my  actions,  madarae :  I  did  return  home  this 
morning  at  eight  o'clock  I " 

"  Gentlemen  I"  cried  the  princess,  "  you  hear  her !  " 

"  Ah!"  exclaimed  M.  d'Aigrigny,  in  an  undertone. 

"  Ah ! "  echoed  the  baron,  in  a  false  and  subtle  voice. 

"  Ah ! "  murmured  the  doctor,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

As  the  mingled  lamentations  arose,  A  drienne  was  on  the  point  of  speak- 
ing, with  a  view  of  justifying  herself;  but  by  the  slightly  contemptuous 
curl  of  her  lip  it  was  evident  she  afterwards  disdained  all  explanation. 

"  And  so  this  disgraceful  report  is  really  true  ? "    resumed  the 


286  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

princess.  "  Ah,  mademoiselle  !  although  you  have  long  taught  me  to 
be  astonished  at  nothing  you  do,  it  required  your  audacious  reply  to 
convince  me  of  the  present  flagrant  violation  of  decency  and  pro- 
priety ! " 

"  I  have  always  imagined,  madame,  that  there  was  much  greater 
audacity  in  uttering  a  falsehood  than  in  speaking  the  truth." 

"  And  where  had  you  been,  mademoiselle  ?  and  upon  what 
business?" 

"  Madame,"  said  Adrienne,  interrupting  her  aunt,  "  equal  to  my 
determination  of  not  soiling  my  lips  with  falsehood  is  my  resolution 
of  not  repeating  that  which  I  think  advisable  to  conceal.  Added  to 
which,  I  should  be  wanting  in  self-respect  could  I  condescend  to  an- 
swer so  repugnant  an  accusation.  Let  us  drop  the  subject,  if  you 
please  ;  all  your  importunities  concerning  it  will  be  useless :  let  us 
rather  go  back  to  the  point  we  were  discussing.  You  wish  to  impose 
on  me  a  system  of  rigid  surveillance,  while  I  intend  to  follow  my  own 
inclinations  as  to  quitting  the  pavilion  I  now  occupy,  and  to  dwell 
there  or  elsewhere,  according  as  my  inclinations  may  decide.  Now 
one  of  us  must  needs  yield  to  the  other :  which  shall  it  be  ? — time  will 
decide.  But  another  thing :  this  hotel  is  mine.  It  is  indifferent  to  me 
your  remaining  here,  now  I  have  left  it ;  but  the  ground-floor  is  un- 
inhabited, and  contains,  without  reckoning  the  reception-rooms,  two 
complete  suites  of  apartments,  which  I  have  disposed  of  for  some  time." 

"  Really,  mademoiselle  ! "  said  the  princess,  casting  a  look  of  sur- 
prise at  M.  d'Aigrigny  ;  then  adding,  ironically,  "  And  may  I  be  per- 
mitted to  inquire  to  whom  you  have  disposed  of  them  ?  " 

"  Madame,  I  require  them  for  the  accommodation  of  three  per- 
sons belonging  to  my  family." 

"  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  you  mean  ! "  exclaimed  Madame  de 
Saint-Dizier,  becoming  still  more  and  more  astonished. 

"  I  mean,  madame,  that  I  am  desirous  of  exercising  the  rites  of 
hospitality  towards  a  young  Indian  prince,  my  relation  by  my  mother's 
side :  he  will  arrive  here  in  two  or  three  days,  and  I  wish  to  have  the 
apartments  ready  for  his  reception." 

"  Do  you  hear  this,  gentlemen  ?  "  inquired  M.  d'Aigrigny  (affect- 
ing utter  amazement)  of  the  doctor  and  M.  Tripeaud. 

"  This  passes  all  imagination ! "  said  the  baron. 

"  Alas  ! "  said  the  ddctor,  with  compunction,  "  the  sentiment  is 
generous  in  itself;  but  still  this  wild  little  head " 

"  Excellent,  indeed ! "  cried  the  princess.  "  Certainly  I  cannot 
prevent  you,  mademoiselle,  from  giving  utterance  to  the  most  extrava- 
gant desires,  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  you  do  not  mean  to  stop  short  in 
your  projects, — surely  this  is  not  all?" 

••  Not  quite,  madame  1  I  have  this  rooming  learned  that  two 
young  females,  also  my  relations  by  my  mother — two  young  girls  of 
about  fifteen  years  of  age  —  orphans,  the  children  of  Marshal  Simon, 
arrived  in  Paris  yesterday,  after  a  long  journey,  and  are  now  staying 
with  the  wife  of  the  brave  soldier  who  has  brought  them  hither  from 
the  most  distant  part  of  Siberia." 

At  these  words  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  princess  suddenly  started, 
and  surveyed  each  other  with  undisguised  alarm  ;  so  little  did  they  an- 


THE  REVOLT.  287 

ticipate  the  intelligence  of  the  return  of  General  Simon's  daughters 
reaching  the  ears  of  Adrienne,  that  the  circumstance  was  a  perfect 
thunderbolt  to  them. 

"  You  are,  doubtless,  astonished  to  find  me  so  well  informed,"  said 
Adrienne  ;  "  fortunately,  I  am  enabled  to  promise  myself  the  power  of 
surprising  you  still  more  shortly.  But,  to  return  to  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon  :  you  must  feel  aware,  madame,  that  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible I  can  allow  them  to  be  a  burthen  to  the  worthy  persons  with  whom 
they  have  found  a  temporary  asylum  ;  and  although  the  people  are  as 
honest  and  good  as  they  are  industrious,  still  it  is  no  fitting  residence  for 
my  young  relatives.  I,  therefore,  propose  placing  them  in  one  of  the 
suites  of  apartments  on  the  ground-floor,  with  the  soldier's  wife,  who 
will  make  an  excellent  housekeeper  for  them." 

As  Adrienne  concluded,  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  baron  exchanged 
looks,  while  the  latter  said  aloud — 

"  Decidedly  her  head  is  quite  turned  !" 

Adrienne,  without  deigning  to  notice  M.  Tripeaud,  proceeded : 

"  General  Simon  is  expected  to  arrive  in  Paris  every  hour :  only 
imagine  the  delight  it  would  be  to  me,  to  present  to  him  his  two  sweet 
children,  and  to  prove  that  they  have  received  every  care  and  attention  ! 
To-morrow  morning  I  will  send  the  necessary  milliners  and  dress- 
makers to  provide  them  with  a  suitable  wardrobe.  Oh,  I  will  so  ar- 
range every  thing  that,  on  their  father's  return,  they  shall  shine  forth 
in  dazzling  loveliness  1  I  am  told  they  are  beautiful  as  angels ;  but  I, 
profane  mortal  that  I  am,  will  convert  them  into  loves." 

"  Pray,  mademoiselle,  have  you  quite  finished  your  ecstasies  ?  "  said 
the  princess,  in  a  sardonic  tone,  her^wrath  momentarily  increasing ;  while 
M.  d'Aigrigny,  calm  and  outwardly  collected,  could  with  difficulty 
suppress  his  mortal  agonies.  "  Pray  take  the  trouble  of  recollecting," 
continued  the  princess,  addressing  herself  to  Adrienne;  "cannot  you 
continue  to  augment  this  interesting  family  colony  with  some  stray 
branch  of  your  maternal  pedigree  you  may  have  overlooked  ?  Upon 
my  word,  no  queen  could  proceed  more  magnificently  than  you  pro- 
pose doing ! " 

"  And  in  good  truth,  madame,  I  purpose  bestowing  on  my  family 
a  truly  royal  reception,  such  a  one  as  is  due  to  the  son  of  a  king  and 
the  daughters  of  Marechal  the  Due  de  Ligny.  It  is  so  charming  to 
be  able  to  add  to  other  luxuries  that  of  open,  free,  and  unbounded 
hospitality." 

"  The  principle  is  not  to  be  found  fault  with,  certainly,"  returned 
the  princess,  becoming  more  and  more  agitated  ;  "  it  is  only  a  pity 
that,  in  order  to  carry  out  your  vast  ideas,  you  have  not  the  mines  of 
Potosi  at  your  command  !  " 

"  Apropos  of  mines  and  vast  riches  ;  that  is  precisely  a  point  upon 
which  1  was  desirous  of  conversing  with  you,  madame,  and  I  scarcely 
think  I  can  find  a  more  fitting  occasion.  However  large  my  present 
fortune  may  be,  it  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the  immense  wealth 
which  may,  from  hour  to  hour,  be  expected  to  descend  to  our  family  ; 
and  with  this  immediate  expectancy,  perhaps,  madame,  you  will  be 
less  severe  upon  what  you  are  pleased  to  style  my  royal  prodigality." 

The  position  of  M.  d'Aigrigny  became  momentarily  more  and 
more  difficult  to  endure. 


288  THK  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  affair  of  the  medals  was  so  important,  that  he  had  even  con- 
cealed it  from  Doctor  Baleinier ;  even  when  requesting  his  aid  for  the 
preservation  of  immense  interests  he  forbore  to  advert  to  this.  Neither 
was  M.  Tripeaud  better  informed  on  the  subject ;  and  the  princess 
believed  she  had  so  completely  destroyed  every  paper  belonging  to 
Adrienne's  father,  which  could  have  given  her  the  information  she 
evidently  possessed  respecting  the  accession  of  wealth  she  had  just 
alluded  to,  that  she  could  scarcely  credit  her  senses ;  and  not  only  did 
she  join  in  the  consternation  experienced  by  the  abbe,  of  finding  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Cardoville  mistress  of  a  secret  so  carefully  concealed 
from  her,  but  she  fully  participated  in  his  apprehensions  of  her  divulg- 
ing it.  Interrupting  her  niece,  therefore,  she  exclaimed, 

"  Mademoiselle,  there  are  certain  family  matters  upon  which 
secresy  should  be  observed;  and,  although  unable  to  understand 
your  recent  allusion,  I  desire  you  will  change  the  subject  of  your 
conversation." 

"  Nay,  madame  !  I  understood  from  yourself  we  were  now  entirely 
a  family  party ;  witness  the  not  very  amiable  words  we  have  permitted 
ourselves  to  give  and  to  take  ! " 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  useless  holding  any  further  argument  I 
When  family  matters,  whether  mutually  understood  and  admitted  or 
not,  are  discussed,  it  is  always  folly  to  enter  upon  them  unless  you  hold 
every  fact,  and  can  substantiate  what  you  advance." 

"  Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  madame,  what  have  we  been  discours- 
ing upon  for  the  last  hour,  if  it  be  not  matters  of  interest  and  import- 
ance ?  And,  really,  I  cannot  understand  your  present  confusion  and 
embarrassment " 

"  I  am  neither  astonished  nor  embarrassed,  mademoiselle ;  but, 
after  the  wild  and  extravagant  things  you  have  been  saying  for  the  last 
two  hours,  it  is  no  wonder  one  becomes  stupified  and  bewildered." 

"  You  must  pardon  me,  madame ;  but  you  really  are  very  consi- 
derably agitated  and  confused,"  pursued  Adrienne,  gazing  at  her  aunt 
with  fixed  attention ;  "  and  M.  d'Aigrigny  also,  which,  joined  to 

certain  suspicions  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  clear  up "  Then, 

after  a  pause,  Adrienne  continued,  "  Have  I  then  judged  aright  ?  We 
shall  see !" 

"  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the  princess,  completely  losing  all 
further  self-command,  "  I  desire  — I  command  you  to  be  silent !" 

"  Ah,  madame  !  "  said  Adrienne,  "  for  a  person  ordinarily  so  self- 
possessed,  you  betray  yourself  sadly ! " 

At  this  moment,  so  fraught  with  danger  to  the  wishes  of  the  prin- 
cess and  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  chance  came  most  opportunely  to  their 
relief. 

The  door  suddenly  opened,  and  a  valet  de  chambre  presented  him- 
self, with  so  terrified  and  agitated  a  countenance,  that  the  princess 
quickly  exclaimed, 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Dubois  ?  " 

"  Your  pardon,  Madame  la  Princesse,"  returned  the  man,  "  for  thus 
intruding  against  your  positive  commands ;  but  the  commissary  of 
police  is  below,  desiring  to  speak  with  you  instantly;  he  is  down 
stairs,  and  several  of  his  assistants  are  in  the  court-yard,  accompanied 
by  a  party  of  soldiers." 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT-DIZIER.—  TREACHERY.  289 

Spite  of  the  extreme  surprise  caused  by  this  novel  incident,  the 
princess  gladly  availed  herself  of  it  to  take  prompt  measures,  in  concert 
with  M.  d'Aigrigny,  relative  to  the  threatening  disclosures  made  by 
Adrienne,  and,  rising,  she  said, 

"  M.  d'Aigrigny,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  accompany  me  while 
I  go  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  this  visit  from  the  police  ?" 

M.  d'Aigrigny  then  followed  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  into  the 
adjoining  apartment. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 


THE  HOTEL  DE  SAINT-DIZIER. — TREACHERY. 

THE  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier,  accompanied  by  M.  d'Aigrigny 
and  the  servant,  stopped  in  the  room  adjoining  that  in  which  they  had 
left  Adrienne,  M.  Tripeaud,  and  the  doctor. 

"  Where  is  the  commissary  of  police  ? "  inquired  she  of  the  valet 
de  chambre,  who  had  announced  to  her  the  arrival  of  that  functionary. 

"  He  is  in  the  blue  salon,  madame." 

"  Then,  ask  him  from  me  to  be  so  kind  as  wait  for  a  few  moments." 

The  valet  de  chambre  bowed,  and  left  the  apartment. 

Then  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  came  suddenly  up  to  M.  d'Aig- 
rigny, whose  countenance,  usually  firm  and  haughty,  was  pale  and 
downcast. 

"  You  see,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  hasty  tone,  "  Adrienne  knows  all 
now  :  What  are  we  to  do  ? — What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  fixed  and  absorbed  look  : 
"  this  discovery  is  a  terrible  blow." 

"All  is  lost,  then?" 

"  There  is  but  one  means  of  safety  left,"  said  M.  d'Aigrigny,  "  and 
that  is — the  doctor." 

"  But  really?"  exclaimed  the  princess;  "so  suddenly  ?-— this  very 
day  ?  " 

"  Two  hours  hence  it  will  be  too  late  :  this  idiot  of  a  girl  will  have 
seen  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon." 

"  But,  Frederic,  it  is  impossible — M.  Baleinier  will  never  agree — • 
he  will  have  all  his  preparations  to  make,  which  should  be  done  after 
the  interrogatory  of  this  morning." 

"  That  cannot  now  be  thought  of,"  replied  the  abbe  quickly ;  "  the 
doctor  must  do  it  now,  at  any  and  all  risk." 

"  But  with  what  excuse  ?" 

"I  will  endeavour  to  find  one." 

"Supposing  that  you  hit  upon  some  pretext,  Frederic,  if  we  must 
act  to-day  nothing  is  prepared — down  there" 

*'  Oh,  rely  upon  it,  by  habitual  precaution  they  are  always  ready." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  forewarn  the  doctor  at  this  very  moment  ?  " 
replied  the  princess. 

19  u 


290  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  To  ask  him,  would  awaken  your  niece's  suspicions,"  said  D'Aig- 
rigny  ;  "  and  that  must  carefully  be  avoided." 

"  Unquestionably,"  replied  the  princess,  "  this  confidence  is  one  of 
our  greatest  resources." 

"  There  is  one  way,"  said  the  abbe,  suddenly  ;  "  I  will  write  a  few 
lines  to  Baleinier — one  of  your  people  will  take  it  to  him  as  if  it  came 
from  somewhere  else — from  some  sick  person  in  great  haste." 

"  An  excellent  idea  I"  said  the  princess.  "You  are  right :  here  upon 
the  table  are  writing  materials — quick,  quick  !  But  will  the  doctor 
succeed  ? " 

"  To  say  the  truth  I  can  hardly  hope  it,"  said  the  marquis,  sitting 
down  to  the  table  with  anger  almost  irrepressible.  "  Thanks  to  this 
interrogatory,  which  has,  indeed,  been  beyond  our  hopes,  and  which 
our  man  concealed  behind  the  screen  has  doubtless  taken  down  care- 
fully in  short-hand — thanks  to  the  violent  scenes  which  must  neces- 
sarily take  place  to-morrow  and  next  day,  the  doctor  using  skilful 
precautions  will  be  able  to  act  with  the  most  perfect  certainty.  But 
to  ask  him  that  to-day — at  this  moment — really,  Herminie,  it  is  a 
folly  to  think  of  it ! "  And  the  marquis  tossed  away  the  pen  he  held  in 
his  hand,  and  then  added  with  a  deep  and  bitter  expression  of  irrita- 
tion,— "  At  the  very  moment  of  success,  behold  all  our  hopes  crushed ! 
Ah,  the  consequences  of  all  this  are  incalculable  I  Your  niece  has 
done  us  immense  mischief  I — immense  mischief!" 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  intense  anger,  the  implacable  hate, 
with  which  M.  d'Aigrigny  pronounced  these  last  words. 

"  Frederic  I  "  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  anxiety,  and  striking 
her  hand  quickly  on  the  hand  of  the  abbe,  "I  entreat  you  not  to 
despair  yet ;  the  doctor's  mind  is  so  fertile  in  resources,  and  he  is  so 
completely  devoted  to  us — let  us  try  once  more." 

"  Well,  there  is  at  least  the  chance,"  said  the  abbe,  resuming  the 
pen. 

"  Viewing  things  at  the  worst,"  said  the  princess,  "suppose 
that  Adrienne  does  go  this  evening  to  Marshal  Simon's  daughters, 
it  is  just  possible  that  she  will  not  find  them." 

"  We  cannot  hope  that ;  it  is  impossible  that  Rodin's  orders  could 
be  so  quickly  executed — if  so,  we  should  have  received  the  informa- 
tion." 

"  That  is  true ;  but  write  to  the  doctor:  I  will  send  Dubois  to  you, 
and  he  will  take  your  letter.  Courage,  Frederic,  and  we  shall  still 
bring  this  intractable  girl  to  her  senses."  Then  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  added,  with  bitter  rage,  "Oh,  Adrienne!  Adrienne  I  you  shall 
pay  dearly  for  the  insolent  sarcasms  and  anguish  you  have  caused  us." 

As  she  was  leaving  the  room  the  princess  turned  round  and  said  to 
M.  d'Aigrigny, 

"  Wait  for  me  here ;  I  will  let  you  know  what  the  commissary  of 
police's  visit  means,  and  we  will  return  to  the  room  together. 

The  princess  then  left  the  apartment.  M.  d'Aigrigny  wrote  some 
hasty  words  with  a  tremulous  hand. 


I  REACHEKV. 


:  "iii. MI;   (  lineman  ntiil  Hall.     July  I.  iM 


THE  SNAKE.  291 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  SNARE. 

AFTER  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  the  marquis  had  left  the 
room,  Adrienne  had  remained  in  her  aunt's  cabinet  with  M.  Baleinier 
and  liaron  Tripeaud. 

When  she  heard  the  announcement  of  the  arrival  of  the  com- 
missary, Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  felt  very  uneasy,  for  she  had  no 
doubt  that,  as  Agricola  had  feared,  the  magistrate  had  come  to  demand 
authority  for  making  a  search  in  the  hotel  and  the  pavilion,  in  order 
to  find  the  smith  whom  they  believed  to  be  hidden  there.  Although 
she  believed  Agricola's  hiding-place  quite  secret,  yet  Adrienne  was 
not  at  her  ease  ;  and  by  way  of  making  sure  in  case  of  an  unfortunate 
result,  she  had  before  her  a  very  excellent  opportunity  for  recommend- 
ing her  protcg£  to  the  doctor,  the  intimate  friend,  as  we  have  already 
said,  of  one  of  the  most  influential  ministers  of  the  day. 

The  young  lady  went  up  to  the  doctor,  Avho  was  discoursing  in  a 
low  tone  with  the  baron,  and  in  her  most  gentle  and  insinuating  voice 
said, 

"  My  dear  Doctor  Baleinier,  I  wish  to  say  two  words  to  you ;"  and 
as  she  spake  she  looked  towards  a  deep  recess  in  the  window. 

"  I  am  at  your  order,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  doctor,  rising  and 
following  Adrienne  to  the  window. 

M.  Tripeaud,  who  felt  himself  no  longer  supported  by  the  presence 
of  the  abbe,  and  who  was  very  much  frightened  of  the  young  lady, 
was  delighted  at  this  diversion,  and  that  he  might  appear  to  be  doing 
something,  he  placed  himself  before  a  sacred  painting,  which  it  seemed 
as  though  he  was  never  weary  of  admiring. 

When  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  was  so  far  away  from  the  baron 
that  he  could  not  overhear  her,  she  said  to  the  doctor,  who  with  his 
habitual  bland  smile  was  awaiting  until  she  addressed  him : 

"  My  good  doctor,  you  are  my  friend,  as  you  were  my  father's. 
Just  now,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  of  your  position,  you  shewed  your- 
self most  courageously  my  only  partisan." 

"  Not  at  all,  mademoiselle ;  pray  do  not  say  such  a  thing,"  said  the 
doctor,  affecting  an  angry  tone.  "  Pestc !  you  will  get  me  into  a 
terrible  mess  !  Pray  not  a  word  of  that!  —  not  a  word!  Vade  retro 
Satanas ! — that  is,  Pray  leave  me  alone,  dear  little  d6mon  as  you 
are  !  " 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  smile ;  "  I  will  not  compromise 
you  :  but  do  allow  me  to  remind  you  how  often  you  have  made  me 
an  offer  of  your  services — have  spoken  to  me  of  your  devotion." 

"  Put  me  to  the  test,  and  see  if  I  will  keep  my  word  or  not." 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  a  proof  this  moment,"  said  Adrienne, 
quickly. 

"  That  I  will,  for  I  like  so  much  to  be  taken  at  ray  word !  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  still  very  intimate  with  your  friend  the  minister  ?  " 

••  1  am,  and  attending  him  for  a  hoarseness,  which  always  comes 


292  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

on  him  the  day  before  he  is  called  on  to  give  his  ministerial  develope- 
mriit.  He  rather  likes  it." 

"  You  must  procure  from  your  minister  something  very  important 
for  me." 

"  For  you  ! — in  what  way  ?  " 

The  valet  dc  chambre  entered,  and,  handing  a  letter  to  M.  Balcinier, 
said  to  him, 

"  A  strange  servant  has  this  moment  brought  this  letter  for  you, 
sir — it  is  in  great  haste." 

The  doctor  took  the  letter,  and  the  valet  dc  chambre  left  the 
room. 

"  These  arc  the  disagreeables  of  merit,"  said  Adrienne,  smilingly  ; 
"  they  will  not  leave  for  a  moment's  repose  my  poor  dear  doctor." 

"  Oh,  do  not  mention  it,  mademoiselle  !  "  said  the  doctor,  who 
could  not  repress  a  gesture  of  surprise  when  he  recognised  M. 
d'Aigrigny's  writing :  "  these  plagues  of  sick  persons  really  believe  we 
are  made  of  iron,  and  can  give  them  all  the  health  they  require ;  they 
are  really  merciless.  But  you  will  allow  me,  mademoiselle  ?  "  said 
M.  Baleinier,  looking  at  Adrienne  before  he  unsealed  the  letter. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  replied  by  a  gracious  nod  of  the 
head. 

The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny's  letter  was  not  long.  The  doctor 
perused  it  in  a  moment,  and,  in  spite  of  his  habitual  prudence, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  in  a  quick  tone, 

"  To-day  ! — it  is  impossible !     The  man  is  mad." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  it  is  some  poor  invalid,  who  has  placed  all  his 
hope  in  you — who  is  waiting  for,  calling  for,  you ;  so  pray,  my  dear 
M.  Baleinier,  be  kind,  and  do  not  reject  his  prayer :  it  is  so  delightful 
to  fulfil  the  confidence  which  any  one  has  in  you !  " 

There  was  something  at  the  same  time  so  remarkably  congruous, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  contradictory  in  the  subject  of  this  letter, 
written  at  the  very  moment  to  the  doctor  by  Adrienne's  most  impla- 
cable enemy,  and  the  language  of  commiseration  which  she  had  used 
in  so  tender  a  voice,  that  Doctor  Baleinier  was  struck  by  it.  He 
looked  at  mademoiselle  with  an  air  almost  embarrassed,  and  replied, 

"  It  is  indeed  one  of  my  patients,  who  relies  much  upon  me — 
indeed  too  much — for  he  asks  of  me  an  impossibility.  But  why 
should  you  interest  yourself  in  an  unknown  person  ?  " 

"  If  he  is  unhappy,  I  do  know  him.  My  protege,  for  whom  I 
request  your  interference  with  the  minister,  was  almost  as  little  known 
to  me :  and  now  I  am  interested  in  him  to  the  last  degree ;  for,  if  I 
must  tell  you,  my  protege  is  the  son  of  the  worthy  old  veteran  who 
has  conducted  hither  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  from  the  depths 
of  Siberia." 

"  What !     Your  protege  is " 

"  A  worthy  artisan,  the  support  of  his  family ;  but  I  ought  to 
tell  you  every  thing.  This  is  the  way  the  whole  affair  has  gone 
on " 

The  confidence  which  Adrienne  was  about  to  repose  in  the  doctor 
was  interrupted  by  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  who,  followed  by  M. 
d'Aigrigny,  opened  the  door  of  the  closet  with  considerable  violence. 

On  the  physiognomy  of  the  princess  there  was  an  expression  of 


'  \ 


r ;       , '; ! 
V 


ADRIENNE    AND    HER     AUNT. 


London:  Cb^pnian  and  Hall.     May  1.  1846. 


THE  SNARE.  293 

infernal  delight,  hardly  concealed  under  the  mask  of  highly  wrought 
indignation. 

M.  d'Aigrigny,  as  he  entered,  gave  Doctor  Baleinier  a  look  of 
inquiry  and  uneasiness. 

The  doctor  replied,  by  a  shake  of  the  head,  in  the  negative. 

The  abbe  bit  Ins  lips  in  mute  rage ;  for,  having  built  his  last  hopes 
on  the  doctor,  he  now  believed  his  plans  ruined  for  ever,  in  spite  of 
the  fresh  blow  which  the  princess  was  about  to  give  to  Adrienne. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  with  a  harsh  and 
hasty  tone,  for  she  was  nearly  choking  with  her  malevolent  satisfac- 
tion, "  gentlemen,  pray  be  seated  :  I  have  strange  news,  curious  intel- 
ligence to  give  you  with  respect  to  this — person." 

And  she  looked  at  her  niece  with  an  air  of  hatred  and  contempt 
impossible  to  portray. 

"  What !  What  about,  my  dear  child  ?  What  now  ? — what  next  ?  " 
said  M.  Baleinier,  with  a  soothing  air,  before  leaving  the  window 
where  he  was  with  Adrienne, — "  whatever  happens,  rely  on  me." 

And  so  saying,  the  doctor  went  and  seated  himself  between  M. 
d'Aigrigny  and  M.  Tripeaud. 

At  the  insolent  address  of  her  aunt,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville 
had  raised  her  head  disdainfully.  Her  colour  had  mounted,  and, 
impatient  and  irritated  at  the  new  attacks  which  threatened  her,  she 
came  towards  the  table  where  the  princess  was  seated,  and  said,  in  a 
tone  of  emotion,  to  Dr.  Baleinier, 

"  I  shall  await  for  you  at  home,  as  soon  as  you  can  come,  my  dear 
doctor.  You  know  I  must  speak  to  you."  And  Adrienne  walked 
towards  the  arm-chair,  in  which  she  had  left  her  bonnet. 

The  princess  rose  suddenly,  exclaiming, 

"  What  are  you  doing,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  away,  madame.  You  have  signified  to  me  your 
pleasure,  and  I  have  signified  mine  to  you  —  that  will  suffice.  As 
to  the  affairs  of  interest,  I  shall  empower  some  one  to  make  my 
claims." 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  took  up  her  bonnet. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  seeing  her  prey  about  to  escape  her, 
ran  hastily  towards  her  niece,  and,  throwing  oft'  all  appearance,  seized 
her  arm  violently  with  her  convulsed  hand,  and  said, 

"  Stay  !  " 

"Oh,  madame  !  "  said  Adrienne,  in  an  accent  of  excessive  disdain, 
"  has  it  come  to  this  ?  " 

"  You  wish  to  escape — you  are  afraid  !  "  said  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  looking  at  her  with  an  air  of  contempt. 

With  the  words  " You  are  afraid"  it  would  have  been  possible 
to  make  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  dare  the  fury  of  a  furnace.  Dis- 
engaging her  arm  from  the  grasp  of  her  aunt,  with  a  gesture  full  of 
nobleness  and  pride,  she  threw  her  bonnet  back  again  on  the  arm- 
chair, and,  returning  to  the  table,  said  to  the  princess  with  dignity, 

"  There  is  something  even  stronger  than  the  profound  disgust 
with  which  all  this  inspires  me,  and  it  is  the  fear  of  being  accused  of 
cowardice.  Speak,  madame  ! — I  hear  you."  And  with  head  erect, 
complexion  suffused,  the  look  half-concealed  by  a  tear  of  indignation, 
arms  crossed  over  her  bosom,  which,  in  spite  of  herself,  palpitated  with 


294  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

deep  emotion,  tapping  the  carpet  with  her  pretty  foot,  Adrienne  fixed 
upon  her  aunt  an  eye  of  confidence  and  determination. 

The  princess  was  anxious  to  distil,  drop  by  drop,  the  venom  with 
which  she  was  gorged,  and  to  make  her  victim  suffer  aa  long  as 
possible,  sure  that  she  would  not  escape  her. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  in  a  restrained  voice, 
"  I  will  tell  you  what  has  occurred :  I  was  informed  that  the  com- 
missary of  police  desired  to  speak  to  me,  and  I  went  to  him.  He 
apologised,  with  pain,  for  the  necessity  of  discharging  an  important 
duty :  a  man,  against  whom  a  warrant  had  been  issued,  had  been  seen 
to  enter  the  pavilion  in  the  garden " 

Adrienne  started, — there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  but  that  it  was 
Agricola's  affair ;  but  she  remained  quiet,  relying  on  the  security  of 
the  hiding-place  into  which  she  had  ordered  him  to  be  hid. 

"The  official,"  continued  the  princess,  "asked  me  to  allow  him  to 
make  a  search  for  this  man,  either  in  the  hotel  or  the  pavilion.  He 
had  a  right  to  do  so.  I  begged  him  to  begin  with  the  pavilion,  and  I 
accompanied  him.  In  spite  of  the  unjustifiable  conduct  of  mademoi- 
selle, I  did  not  for  a  moment  think,  I  must  say,  or  believe,  that  she  had 
mixed  herself  up  in  any  way  with  any  low  affair  with  the  police.  I 
was  deceived." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  madame  ?"  exclaimed  Adrienne. 

"  You  will  hear,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  princess,  with  an  air  of 
triumph.  "Every  one  has  his  turn.  A  short  time  since  and  you 
were  full  of  mockery  and  disdain.  I  went  with  the  commissary,  I  say, 
in  his  search.  We  entered  the  pavilion,  and  I  will  allow  you  to  guess 
my  astonishment,  and  the  amazement  of  the  magistrate,  at  the  sight  of 
the  three  creatures  we  saw  attired  like  girls  at  the  theatre.  The  fact 
has  been  at  my  request  noted  down  in  the  depositions,  for  such  pre- 
posterous extravagancies  ought  to  be  made  known  to  everybody." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse  has  done  wisely,"  said  M.  Tripeaud,  with  a 
bow.  "  It  was  quite  right  to  instruct  justice  on  this  point." 

Adrienne,  too  much  interested  in  the  fate  of  the  artisan  to  think  of 
replying  either  to  Tripeaud  or  to  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  listened  in 
silence  to  conceal  her  disquietude. 

"  The  magistrate,"  continued  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  "  began  by 
closely  interrogating  the  young  girls,  and  inquiring  if  any  man  had 
been,  to  their  knowledge,  introduced  into  the  pavilion  occupied  by 
mademoiselle,  and  they  replied  with  singular  audacity  that  they  had 
not  seen  any  person  enter." 

"Good,  honest-hearted  girls!"  thought  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
with  satisfaction  ;  "then  the  poor  workman  is  saved,  and  Dr.  Baleinier's 
protection  will  effect  the  rest." 

"  Fortunately,"  replied  the  princess,  "  one  of  my  women,  Madame 
Grivois,  had  accompanied  me :  this  worthy  person,  recollecting  that 
she  had  seen  mademoiselle  come  in  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  said 
naivement  to  the  magistrate  that  the  man  they  were  looking  for  might 
very  easily  have  entered  by  the  small  garden  door,  which,  perhaps, 
mademoiselle  had,  by  mistake,  left  open  when  she  entered." 

"  It  would  have  been  advisable,  Madame  la  Princesse,"  said 
Tripeaud,  "to  have  mentioned,  also,  in  t\\ejrroccs  verbal,  that  made- 
moiselle had  returned  home  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning." 


THE  SNARE.  295 

"  I  see  no  occasion  for  that,"  said  the  doctor,  who  played  his  part 
to  admiration  ;  "  that  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  object  of  the 
commissary's  search." 

"  But,  doctor "  said  Tripeaud. 

"  But,  baron,"  replied  Dr.  Baleinier,  in  a  decided  tone,  "  that  is 
my  opinion." 

"  It  is  not  mine,  doctor,"  added  the  princess.  "I,  as  well  as  M. 
Tripeaud,  have  thought  it  was  important  that  the  thing  should  be 
inserted  in  the  proces  verbal;  and  I  saw,  by  the  confused  and  pained 
appearance  of  the  magistrate,  how  much  he  was  distressed  at  having  to 
make  an  entry  of  such  scandalous  conduct  in  a  young  person  placed 
in  so  high  a  position  in  society." 

••  Ah.  doubtless,  madame !"  said  Adrienne,  whose  patience  was 
exhausted ;  "  and  I  can  believe  your  own  modesty  almost  equal  to 
that  of  this  abashed  commissary  of  police.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  your 
mental  conscience  was  alarmed  a  little  too  soon ;  you  might  both 
have  reflected  that  there  was  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  fact  of  my 
going  out  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  returning  home  at  eight 
o'clock." 

"  The  excuse  is  somewhat  tardy,  but  not  the  less  clever,"  said  the 
princess,  spitefully. 

"  I  make  no  excuse,  madame  !  *'  replied  Adriennne,  haughtily ; 
"  but,  as  M.  Baleinier  has  kindly  said  a  word  in  my  behalf  through 
friendship  for  me,  I  give  the  simple  explanation  of  a  fact,  which  I  did 
not  feel  myself  bound  to  apologise  for  before  you." 

"  Then  the  fact  will  remain  in  the  deposition  until  mademoiselle 
gives  the  explanation,"  said  M.  Tripeaud. 

The  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  leaning  his  forehead  on  his  hands,  remained 
almost  unconscious  of  this  scene,  so  entirely  was  he  absorbed  with  all. 
the  consequences  he  foresaw  would  arise  from  the  approaching  inter- 
view between  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  and  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon,  for  he  could  not  venture  to  prohibit  Adrienne's  going 
to  them,  as  she  had  engaged  to  do,  that  evening. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  resumed : 

"  The  circumstance  which  so  greatly  shocked  the  commissary,  is 
as  nothing  to  that  which  remains  for  me  to  tell  you,  gentlemen.  We 
searched  the  pavilion  throughout  without  finding  any  one,  when  just  as 
we  were  about  quitting  the  sleeping  apartment  of  Mademoiselle 
Adrienne,  for  we  had  reserved  our  visit  to  this  chamber  till  the  last, 
Madame  Grivois  drew  my  attention  to  a  portion  of  the  gilt  moulding 
surrounding  a  false  door,  which  did  not  appear  to  join  as  closely  as  the 
rest.  We  directed  the  visiting  officer  to  this  peculiarity ;  his  people 
examined  it — tried  it  by  pressing  against  it  in  every  direction,  when  a 
panel  suddenly  slipped  away  and  discovered — how  shall  I  bring 
myself  to  say  what  ?  No !  never  can  my  tongue  declare  the  dis- 
graceful, the  shameful  talo  !  I  cannot,  I  dare  not  utter  it !" 

"Then,  madame !"  said  Adrienne,  who  found  to  her  great  chagrin 
that  Agricola's  hiding-place  had  been  discovered,  "  I  dare  take  upon 
myself  to  spare  you  the  recital  which  so  much  offends  your  delicacy. 
I  merely  request  that  what  I  am  about  to  say  may  not  be  construed 
into  any  desire  or  intention  of  justifying  myself." 

"  Yet,  methinks,  mademoiselle,"  cried  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier, 


296  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

•with  a  bitter  smile  of  contempt,  "  the  circumstance  of  a  man  being 
found  concealed  in  your  bed-chamber  may  be  deemed  worthy  of  expla- 
nation by  any  young  person  careful  of  her  reputation." 

"A  man  hid  in  her  bed-chamber!"  exclaimed  the  Marquis 
d'Aigrigny,  suddenly  rising  from  his  meditative  attitude,  with  an  air 
of  indignation  which  barely  covered  the  intense  and  cruel  joy  with 
which  he  heard  the  news. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  added  Baron  Tripeaud ;  "  a  man  in  the  sleeping 
apartment  of  mademoiselle !  I  trust  that  fact  was  also  entered  into 
the  proces  verbal  ?" 

"It  was!  it  was!"  replied  the  princess,  with  a  triumphant  air. 

"  But  this  man,"  said  the  doctor,  with  an  hypocritical  air,  "  was 
doubtless  a  common  thief,  a  robber,  who  had  surreptitiously  entered : 
the  thing  explains  itself — every  other  suspicion  were  •  •  No,  no,  the 
thing  is  not  credible  !" 

"  Your  extreme  indulgence  for  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  leads  you 
astray,  M.  Baleinier,"  observed  the  princess,  in  a  dry  sarcastic  tone. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interposed  Tripeaud ;  "  the  sort  of  thieves  who  are 
found  hid  in  young  ladies'  bed-rooms  are  a  very  distinct  class ;  usually 
very  young,  very  handsome,  and  extremely  rich  !" 

"  You  are  also  mistaken,  monsieur,  in  the  present  case,"  replied 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  "  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  does  not  possess 
such  elevated  views,  but  proves  that  a  young  woman  may  not  only  be 
criminal,  but  ignobly  so.  Indeed,  I  am  no  longer  astonished  at  the 
sympathy  mademoiselle  so  openly  expresses  for  the  lower  orders  of 
people ;  and  it  adds  considerably  to  the  touching  and  pathetic  part  of 
this  affair,  that  the  man  caught  in  her  private  apartment  was  dressed 
in  a  common  blouse." 

"  A  blouse  !  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  with  the  most  supreme  disgust. 
"  Why,  he  must  have  been  quite  a  low  fellow  !  Really  it  makes  one's 
hair  stand  on  end  only  to  hear  of  such  things ! " 

"  The  man  is  a  working  smith,"  said  the  princess  ;  "  he  confesses 
it ;  and,  to  do  him  justice,  he  really  is  a  very  good-looking  individual, 
and,  doubtless,  following  out  the  singular  adoration]  mademoiselle  pro- 
fesses for  beauty  in  general " 

"  Enough,  madame  !  enough  ! "  said  Adrienne,  who,  disdaining  to 
reply,  had  hitherto  listened  with  fast-increasing  indignation  to  her  aunt's 
bitter  taunts  and  malevolent  insinuations.  "  I  was,  a  little  while  ago, 
about  to  exculpate  myself  from  one  of  your  odious  aspersions ;  I  will 
not  expose  myself  a  second  time  to  a  similar  weakness  —  one  word 
only,  madame,  this  honest  and  loyal  artisan  has  no  doubt  been 
arrested  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly  !  and  taken  to  prison  under  a  strong  escort.  That 
grieves  you  to  the  heart,  does  it  not,  mademoiselle  ? "  answered  the 
princess,  in  a  triumphant  tone.  "  Your  tender  concern  for  this  inter- 
esting smith  must  be  great  indeed,  since  it  actually  deprives  you  of 
your  ironical  assurance." 

"  Yes,  madame ;  for  I  have  more  important  and  weighty  matters  to 
attend  to,  than  to  indulge  myself  with  railing  even  at  that  which  is 
both  hateful  and  ridiculous,"  answered  Adrienne,  whose  fast-gathering 
tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of  the  cruel  uneasiness  the  im- 
prisonment of  Agricola  would  occasion  his  family ;  and  taking  up  her 


THE  SNARE.  297 

hat,  she  placed  it  on  her  head,  tied  the  ribands  of  it,  and,  addressing 
herself  to  the  doctor,  she  said,  "  M.  Baleinier,  a  little  while  ago  I  asked 
your  protection  and  interest  with  the  minister  ?  " 

"  You  did,  mademoiselle,  and  I  should  be  most  happy  to  mediate 
for  you  with  him  in  any  manner  you  may  desire." 

"  Is  your  carriage  below  ?  " 

"  It  is,  mademoiselle  ! "  replied  the  doctor,  greatly  surprised. 

"  Will  you,  then,  do  me  the  favour  to  conduct  me  at  once  to  the 
minister  ?  Presented  by  you,  he  will  not  refuse  me  the  favour,  or 
rather  the  justice,  I  have  to  ask  at  his  hands." 

"  How,  mademoiselle  ! "  said  the  princess ;  "  do  you  presume  to 
form  such  a  determination  without  my  orders,  after  what  has  just  oc- 
curred ?  Your  conduct  passes  all  bounds  ! " 

"  It  is,  indeed,  a  pitiable  extent  of  misconduct,"  added  M.  Tripeaud; 
"  but  we  must  not  be  surprised  at  any  thing  ! " 

D'Aigrigny  started  as  Adrienne  inquired  of  the  doctor  whether  his 
carriage  was  in  waiting  ?  A  gleam  of  joyous,  unhoped-for  satisfaction 
shone  in  his  eye,  and  scarcely  could  he  restrain  his  violent  emotion, 
when  casting  a  rapid  and  significant  glance  at  the  doctor,  who  re- 
turned the  look  by  twice  dropping  his  eyelids  in  token  of  comprehend- 
ing and  consenting  to  his  wish.  When,  therefore,  the  princess  added, 
in  a  wrathful  tone,  addressing  Adrienne, 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  totally  forbid  your  quitting  this  apartment !" 

M.  d'Aigrigny  observed  to  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  with  a  pecu- 
liar inflexion  of  voice, 

"  I  think,  madame,  we  may  venture  to  entrust  Mademoiselle  Adri- 
enne to  the  care  of  our  worthy  doctor." 

The  marquis  pronounced  these  last  words  in  so  significant  a  manner 
that  the  princess,  having  scrutinised  alternately  his  countenance  and 
that  of  M.  Baleinier,  comprehended  the  proposed  scheme,  and  her 
whole  physiognomy  became  radiant  with  joy. 

Not  only  had  all  this  passed  more  rapidly  than  we  can  describe,  but 
evening  was  closing  in,  and  Adrienne,  entirely  pre-occupied  in  the 
painful  consideration  of  Agricola  and  his  family,  perceived  not  the 
various  signs  exchanged  between  the  princess,  the  doctor,  and  the 
abbe :  nor,  indeed,  had  she  even  remarked  them,  would  she  have  been 
able  to  guess  at  their  meaning. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  however,  not  choosing  to  appear  to  yield 
too  easily  to  the  observation  made  by  the  marquis,  continued : 

"  Spite  of  the  evident  indulgence  M.  le  Docteur  is  disposed  to 
shew  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  I  still  see  no  positive  reason  to 
object  to  her  accompanying  him;  however,  I  must  beg  the  present 
concession  may  not  be  used  as  a  precedent,  as,  from  this  hour,  made- 
moiselle will  have  no  will  but  mine." 

"  Madame  la  Princesse,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely,  as  though 
much  hurt  by  the  words  of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier,  "  you  must  par- 
don me,  if  I  say  I  do  not  consider  I  have  exhibited  any  excessive  lean- 
ing towards  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  I  have  been  just,  nothing 
more.  I  am  now  ready  to  conduct  her  to  the  minister,  if  she 
wishes  it.  I  am  entirely  ignorant  what  it  is  she  wishes  to  solicit ;  but 
I  believe  her  incapable  of  abusing  the  confidence  she  knows  I  have 
in  her,  by  inducing  me  to  support  any  unworthy  recommendation," 


298  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Adrienne,  much  affected,  held  out  her  hand  with  frank  cordiality 
to  the  doctor,  saying, 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  my  excellent  friend  ;  you  will  thank  me  for 
the  part  you  take,  for  in  obliging  me  you  are  sharing  in  the  delights 
of  performing  a  really  good  action." 

Tripeaud,  who  was  not  in  the  secret  of  the  recently  contrived  scheme 
between  the  doctor  and  the  abbe,  said  to  the  latter,  in  a  low  tone,  and 
with  a  puzzled  look, 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  let  her  depart  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes!"  replied  M.  d'Aigrigny,  hastily,  feigning  to  listen  to 
the  princess,  who  was  about  to  speak. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had,  in  fact,  risen  from  her  chair,  and  ad- 
vancing towards  her  niece  said,  in  a  slow  and  measured  tone,  laying 
great  emphasis  on  each  word, 

"  One  word  more,  mademoiselle  !  one  other  word  in  the  presence  of 
these  gentlemen !  Answer  me  I  Are  you,  spite  of  all  the  terrible 
charges  which  are  now  against  you,  still  resolved  to  refuse  to  acknow- 
ledge my  authority,  and  to  reject  my  control  ?  " 

"  I  am,  madame  ! " 

"  And,  notwithstanding  the  disgraceful  exposure  which  has  taken 
place,  your  intention  of  removing  from  my  guardianship  is  still  the 
same  ?  " 

"  It  is,  madame ! " 

"  And  you  positively  refuse  to  submit  yourself  to  the  secret  and 
decorous  mode  of  life  I  am  desirous  of  prescribing  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  madame,  that  I  should  quit  this  house 
to  live  where  and  in  what  manner  I  pleased." 

"  And  this  is  your  final  resolve  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  unalterable  determination  !" 

"  Reflect !  It  is  most  important  to  yourself  to  weigh  the  matter 
well  —  have  a  care  ! " 

"  I  have  told  you  my  resolution  once,  madame.  I  never  repeat 
my  words  unnecessarily." 

"  Gentlemen,  you  hear  her  ! "  cried  the  princess ;  "  and  you  are  my 
witnesses,  that  I  have  tried  all  in  my  power  to  bring  her  to  reason 
and  effect  a  reconciliation.  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  must,  there- 
fore blame  herself  alone  for  the  steps  which  so  audacious  a  disregard 
of  obedience  on  her  part  compels  me  to  adopt." 

"  So  be  it,  madame  ! "  answered  Adrienne.  Then  addressing  her- 
self to  M.  Baleinier,  she  said,  quickly,  "  Come,  come,  my  dear  doctor ! 
I  am  dying  with  impatience:  let  us  depart  at  once;  each  instant  we 
delay  is  causing  a  worthy  family  to  shed  bitter  tears. 

So  saying,  Adrienne,  followed  by  the  doctor,  hastily  quitted  the 
salon. 

A  servant  belonging  to  the  princess  caused  the  carriage  of  M.  Ba- 
leinier to  draw  up,  and,  assisted  by  him,  Adrieune  took  her  seat  in  the 
vehicle,  without  observing  that  the  doctor  said  something  in  a  whisper 
to  the  footman  who  opened  the  carriage-door.  When  the  doctor  had 
seated  himself  beside  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  the  servant  closed 
the  door,  and  almost  immediately  after  called  out  to  the  coachman  in 
a  loud  tone,  "  To  the  minister's  hotel,  private  entrance  !" 

The  horses  dashed  off  at  full  speed. 


A    FALSE    FRIEND. 


A  FALSE  FRIEND.  299 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

A  FALSE  FRIEND. 

THE  night  had  set  in  dark  and  cold. 

The  sky,  which  had  been  clear  until  sunset,  was  now  covered  with 
dark-grey  clouds  ;  the  wind,  blowing  harshly,  raised  in  places  the  thick 
snow,  which  had  begun  to  fall. 

The  lamps  only  threw  a  doubtful  light  into  the  carriage  of  Doctor 
Baleinier,  where  he  and  Adrienne  were  alone. 

Adrienne's  lovely  face,  beneath  her  small  bonnet  of  grey  beaver, 
faintly  lighted  up  by  the  beams  of  the  lamps,  looked  white  and  fair,  from 
contrast  with  the  dark  hue  of  the  material  with  which  the  carriage 
\vas  lined,  and  which  was  odorous  of  that  sweet,  delicious  perfume, 
almost  enervating,  which  always  proceeds  from  the  garments  of  females 
who  pay  much  attention  to  their  toilet.  The  position  of  the  young 
girl,  as  she  sat  by  the  doctor,  was  full  of  grace.  Her  elegant  and 
pliant  figure,  confined  in  her  high  dress  of  blue  cloth,  impressed  its 
supple  motion  on  the  soft  cushion  against  which  she  leaned ;  her  small 
feet,  crossed  one  over  the  other  and  stretched  forward,  rested  on  a  thick 
bear-skin,  which  served  for  a  carpet ;  in  her  fair  left  hand  she  held  a 
handkerchief,  magnificently  embroidered,  with  which,  to  the  extreme 
astonishment  of  M.  Baleinier,  she  wiped  her  eyes,  which  were  suffused 
with  tears. 

Yes  ;  for  this  young  girl  then  suffered  under  the  reaction  of  the 
painful  scenes  at  which  she  had  been  present  at  the  Hotel  de  Saint- 
Di/.ier.  To  a  feverish  and  nervous  excitement  had  succeeded  an  ex- 
treme depression ;  for  Adrienne,  so  bold  in  her  independence,  so 
haughty  in  her  disdain,  so  implacable  in  her  irony,  so  resolute  in  her 
resistance,  to  unjust  oppression,  was  endowed  with  the  deepest  sen- 
sibility, which  she  always  repressed  in  the  presence  of  her  aunt  and 
those  of  her  circle. 

In  spite  of  her  self-possession,  nothing  could  be  less  masculine,  less 
shrewish,  than  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  She  was  essentially  the, 
woman  :  but  then,  as  a  woman,  she  knew  entirely  how  to  exercise  self- 
command,  so  that  not  the  slightest  symptom  of  weakness  on  her  part 
appeared  to  rejoice  and  inspirit  her  enemies. 

The  carriage  had  proceeded  for  some  minutes,  and  Adrienne, 
silently  drying  her  tears,  to  the  doctor's  great  astonishment  had  not 
uttered  a  word. 

"What,  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Adrienne!"  said  M.  Baleinier, 
really  surprised  at  the  young  girl's  emotion  ;  "  what!  you  who  were 
just  now  so  bold — you  weeping?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  an  altered  voice ;  ''  I  am  weeping 
before  you — a  friend  ;  but  before  my  aunt — oh,  never!" 

"  Yet,  really,  in  our  long  interview,  your  sarcasms " 

"  Oh  I  can  you  not  suppose  that  I  give  myself  up  to  saying  these  bit- 
ter things  in  spite  of  myself?  Nothing  disgusts  me  more  than  these  sort 
of  struggles  with  bitter  irony,  to  which  I  am  driven  by  the  necessity  of 


300  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

defending  myself  against  this  woman  and  her  friends.  You  talk  of  my 
courage,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  does  not  consist  in  an  ill-natured  wit, 
but  in  repressing,  concealing  all  I  endure,  when  I  find  myself  so 
coarsely  treated  before  persons  whom  I  hate  and  despise.  I  who,  after 
all,  have  never  done  them  any  harm,  and  only  ask  to  be  allowed  to  live 
alone,  free,  quiet,  and  see  all  around  me  happy ! " 

"  Yes,  so  it  is ;  they  are  envious  of  your  happiness,  and  that  of 
those  who  owe  theirs  to  you." 

"  And  this  is  my  aunt ! "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  indignantly.  "  My 
aunt,  whose  own  life  has  been  one  lengthened  scandal,  who  accuses  me 
in  so  revolting  a  manner  !  as  if  she  did  not  know  that  I  am  proud 
enough,  loyal  enough,  to  make  only  such  a  choice  which  would  do 
honour  to  me  openly  !  Oh  !  whenever  I  fall  in  love,  I  shall  proclaim 
it,  and  triumph  in  it ;  for  love,  as  I  understand  it,  is  the  most  glorious 
thing  in  the  world."  Then  Adrienne  added,  with  extreme  bitterness, 
"  What  avail,  then,  are  honour  and  frankness,  if  they  do  not  place  you 
beyond  suspicions  which  are  even  more  stupid  than  hateful  ?  " 

And  again  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  raised  her  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes. 

"  Come,  my  dear  Mademoiselle*  Adrienne,"  said  M.  Baleinier,  with 
a  soothing  and  insinuating  voice,  "calm  yourself;  this  is  all  over 
now.  You  have  in  me  a  devoted  friend." 

And  as  this  man  spoke  he  blushed,  in  spite  of  his  devilish  cunning. 

"  I  know  full  well  you  are  my  friend,"  said  Adrienne ;  "  and  I 
shall  never  forget  that  you  exposed  yourself  to-day  to  the  resentments 
of  my  aunt  in  taking  my  part ;  for  I  am  not  ignorant  of  her  power  — 
a  power  great  for  evil " 

"  As  to  that,"  said  the  doctor,  affecting  perfect  indifference,  "  we 
medical  men  are  beyond  the  reach  of  any  revenges." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,  but  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  and  her 
friends  never  forgive  !("  And  the  young  girl  shuddered.  "  It  has  re- 
quired my  unconquerable  aversion,  my  innate  horror  of  all  that  is 
cowardly,  base,  and  unprincipled,  to  enable  me  to  break  so  openly 
with  her ;  but,  if  it  were  a  question  of  death  itself,  I  should  not  hesi- 
tate :  and  yet,"  she  added,  with  one  of  those  captivating  smiles  which 
gave  so  much  grace  to  her  lovely  countenance,  "  I  like  life  very  much, 
too,  and  if  I  have  to  reproach  myself,  it  is  that  I  like  it  too  brilliant, 
too  attractive,  too  harmonious  ;  but,  as  you  know,  I  make  up  my  mind 
to  its  defects." 

'•  Come,  come,  I  am  easier  now,"  said  the  doctor,  gaily ;  "  you 
smile,  and  that  is  a  good  sign." 

"  And  often  the  wisest.  Yet  ought  I  to  smile,  after  the  threats  of 
my  aunt  ?  Yet  what  can  she  do  ?  What  was  the  meaning  of  this  kind 
of  family  conference?  Seriously,  could  she  think  for  a  moment  that  I 
was  to  be  influenced  by  the  opinions  of  a  M.  d'Aigrigny  or  a  M. 
Tripeaud  ?  Then  she  spoke  of  rigorous  measures  I  What  measures 
could  she  take  ?  Do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  think,  between  ourselves,  that  the  princess  only  meant  to 
frighten  you.  She  relies  on  being  able  to  influence  you  by  persuasion ;  she, 
unfortunately,  persuades  herself  that  she  is  a  mother  of  the  church,  and 
dreams  of  your  conversion,"  said  the  doctor,  significantly,  and  desirous 
of  giving  Adrienne  full  confidence  in  him,  "  But  do  not  let  us  talk 


A  FALSE  FRIEND.  301 

of  this  —  your  eyes  must  shine  with  their  accustomed  lustre,  to  seduce 
and  fascinate  the  minister  we  are  going  to  see." 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  doctor ;  \ve  should  always  drive  away  OIK  s 
own  vexation,  for  one  of  its  least  disagreeables  is  to  make  you  forget 
the  vexations  of  others :  but  let  me  remember  that  I  am  making  use 
of  your  kindness  without  saying  what  I  wanted  from  you." 

"  We  have  plenty  of  time,  fortunately,  to  converse,  for  our  man  of 
state  lives  a  long  distance  from  you." 

"  In  two  words,  then,  this  is  it,"  replied  Adrienne :  "  I  have  told 
you  the  reasons  I  had  for  interesting  myself  in  this  worthy  artisan, 
who  came  this  morning  in  great  distress  to  tell  me  that  he  had  com- 
promised himself  by  some  songs  he  had  written  (for  he  is  a  poet),  and 
was  threatened  with  arrest ;  that  he  was  innocent,  and,  if  they  put  him 
in  prison,  that  his  family,  of  M  horn  he  was  the  sole  support,  would 
starve.  He  came,  therefore,  to  me,  asking  me  to  become  his  security, 
so  that  he  might  be  let  free  to  work,  and  I  promised  him,  thinking  of 
your  intimacy  with  the  minister;  but  they  were  already  on  the  traces 
of  the  poor  fellow,  and  I  bethought  me  of  hiding  him  in  my  house, 
and  you  know  the  interpretation  which  has  been  put  upon  that  by  my 
aunt.  Now  tell  me,  thanks  to  your  introduction,  do  you  believe  that 
the  minister  will  grant  Avhat  we  are  going  to  ask — the  liberty  of  this 
workman  on  the  security  given  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably,  there  will  not  be  a  shadow  of  difficulty,  parti- 
cularly when  you  tell  him  all  the  facts  with  that  eloquence  of  the 
heart  which  you  possess  so  completely." 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  Doctor  Baleinier,  why  I  have  taken  the 
resolution — a  strange  one,  perhaps  —  to  request  you  to  take  me,  young 
girl  as  I  am,  to  the  minister's  ?  " 

"Why,  I  imagine,  in  order  to  recommend  your  protege  in  as 
urgent  a  manner  as  possible." 

"  Yes  ;  and  also  to  cut  short,  by  a  bold  step,  the  calumnies  M'hich 
my  aunt  will  not  be  slow  to  disseminate,  and  which  she  has  already,  as 
you  saw,  caused  to  be  inserted  in  the  depositions  of  the  commissary  of 
police.  I  have,  therefore,  preferred  to  address  myself  freely  and 
openly  to  a  man  placed  in  an  eminent  position.  I  shall  tell  him  what 
is  really  the  case,  and  he  will  believe  me,  because  the  truth  has  an  air 
which  never  deceives." 

"  This  is  all,  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,  wisely  and  cleverly 
reasoned.  You  will,  as  they  say,  kill  two  birds  witli  one  stone ;  or, 
rather,  from  one  good  action  you  will  derive  two  acts  of  justice.  You 
will  destroy  at  once  dangerous  scandals,  and  set  at  liberty  a  worthy 
fellow." 

"Now,  then,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  smile,  "all  my  gaiety  has 
returned,  thanks  to  this  happy  prospect." 

"  Oh  ! "  replied  the  doctor,  philosophically,  "  in  this  life  all  depends 
on  the  point  of  sight  from  which  we  contemplate  it." 

Adrienne  was  so  completely  ignorant  of  matters  of  constitutional 
government  and  administrative  arrangements,  and  had  so  blind  a  con- 
fidence in  the  doctor,  that  she  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt  what  he  told 
her.  She,  therefore,  said  joyfully  : 

" How  delightful !  So  I  shall  be  able,  when  I  go  to  see  the 
daughters  of  Marshal  Simon,  to  assure  the  artisan's  poor  mother,  who 


302  THK  WANDERING  JEW. 

is,  perhaps,  at  this  moment  in  cruel  agony  on  his  account  as  he  does 
not  return  to  her." 

"  Yes,  you  will  have  that  pleasure,"  said  M.  Baleinier,  smiling ; 
"  for  we  will  beg  and  bother  him  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  good 
mother  shall  learn  through  you  that  her  excellent  son  is  at  liberty 
before  she  knows  he  has  been  in  custody." 

'«  How  kind,  how  good  you  are  I"  said  Adrienne.  "  Really  if  it  were 
not  that  the  matter  was  so  serious,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  make  you  lose  so  much  precious  time :  but  I  know  your 
heart" 

"  I  have  but  one  desire,  and  that  is  to  prove  to  you  my  profound 
devotion,  my  sincere  attachment,"  said  the  doctor,  in  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff. 

At  the  same  moment  he  gave  an  unquiet  glance  at  the  coach 
window,  for  the  carriage  was  crossing  the  Place  de  1'Odeon,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  heavy  fall  of  snow,  the  facade  of  the  theatre  was  illumi- 
nated, and  he  feared  lest  Adrienne,  who  at  this  moment  turned  her 
head  in  the  same  direction,  might  be  astonished  at  the  singular  route 
they  had  taken. 

In  order  to  draw  off  her  attention  by  a  skilful  diversion,  the  doctor 
suddenly  exclaimed:  "Alas!  I  have  forgotten ——" 

"  What  is  it,  M.  Baleinier  ? "  said  Adrienne,  turning  quickly 
towards  him. 

"  I  forgot  one  very  important  thing  towards  the  success  of  our 
petition." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  the  young  lady,  who  was  uneasy  at  the 
remark. 

M.  Baleinier  smiled  significantly  :  "  All  men,"  said  he,  "  have 
their  weaknesses,  and  a  minister  more  than  any  other.  He  whom  we 
are  going  to  solicit  has  the  absurdity  to  pique  himself  ridiculously  on 
his  title,  and  his  first  impression  would  be  far  from  favourable,  if  you 
did  not  salute  him  very  emphatically  as  Monsieur  le  Ministre  !  " 

"  If  that  be  all,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier,"  said  Adrienne,  smiling  in 
turn, "  I  will  go  as  far  as  '  Your  Excellency,'  himself,  which  is,  I  believe, 
one  of  his  adopted  titles." 

"  No,  not  now,  for  certain  reasons ;  but  if  you  could  let  fall  one  or 
two  '  Monseigneurs,'  our  affair  would  be  effected  out  of  hand." 

"  Make  yourself  easy ;  since  there  are  bourgeois-ministres  as  well 
as  bourgeois-gcntilshomme,  I  must  remember  M.  Jourdain,  and  will 
fully  satisfy  the  gluttonous  vanity  of  your  man  of  state." 

"  I  give  him  up  to  you,  and  he  will  be  in  good  hands,"  replied  the 
physician,  seeing  with  satisfaction  that  the  carrriage  had  reached  the 
dark  streets  which  lead  from  the  Place  de  1'Odeon  to  the  quarter  of 
the  Pantheon  ;  "  but,  under  the  circumstance,  J  have  not  the  courage 
to  reproach  my  friend  the  minister  with  being  vain,  since  his  vanity 
comes  to  my  assistance." 

"  Besides,  the  little  ruse  is  innocent,"  added  Mademoiselle  de  Car- 
doville,  "  and  I  have  no  scruple  in  having  recourse  to  it,  I  assure  you." 
Then  looking  towards  the  window,  she  said,  "  Oh  I  how  dull  and  dark 
these  streets  are  I  What  a  wind  !  and  what  snow !  In  which  quarter  are 
we  now  ?  " 

"  What  1  ungrateful  and  unnatural  inhabitant,  do  you  iiot  recog- 


A  FALSE   FRIEND.  303 

nise  by  the  absence  of  shops  your  dear  quarter,  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain  ?" 

"I  thought  we  had  left  it  long  since." 

"  And  so  did  I,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  out  of  the  window  as  if  to 
reconnoitre  the  place  in  which  he  was ;  "  but  we  are  still  here.  My 
stupid  coachman,  blinded  by  the  snow  which  dashes  in  his  face,  must 
have  mistaken  his  road,  but  now  we  are  all  right.  Yes ;  I  see  we  are 
in  the  Rue  St.  Guillaume — not  a  very  gay  street,  by  the  way,  but  in  ten 
minutes  we  shall  reach  the  private  entrance  of  the  minister's,  for  inti- 
mates like  me  have  the  privilege  of  escaping  the  honors  of  the  state 
entrance. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  like  persons  who  usually  go  out  in 
carriages,  knew  so  little  of  the  streets  of  Paris,  and  of  ministerial 
habits,  that  she  doubted  not  for  an  instant  what  Dr.  Baleiuier  affirmed, 
having  also  in  him  such  implicit  confidence. 

From  the  moment  of  quitting  the  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier,  the  doctor 
had  on  his  lips  a  question  he  still  feared  to  ask,  lest  by  so  doing  he 
should  excite  the  suspicions  of  Adrienne. 

When  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  had,  during  her  stormy  inter- 
view with  her  aunt,  vaguely  hinted  at  the  immense  wealth  which  must 
ere  long  devolve  to  her,  and  of  such  a  circumstance  having  been 
hitherto  concealed  from  her,  the  doctor  was  too  keen  and  acute  an 
observer  of  the  workings  of  the  human  countenance,  not  to  perceive 
the  intense  agony  and  embarrassment  such  an  announcement  occasioned 
both  to  the  princess  and  M.  d'Aigrigny.  He  doubted  not  that  the 
conspiracy  against  Adrienne,  in  which  he  had  taken  part  from  blind 
obedience  to  the  will  of  his  Order,  bore  reference  to  this  expected  but 
concealed  increase  of  property,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  burned 
with  impatience  to  learn  every  particular  respecting  it ;  for  being  com- 
pelled, in  common  with  each  member  of  this  dark  confederacy,  to  be 
constantly  exercising  an  inquisitorial  survey  into  everybody's  affairs,  he 
felt  as  a  natural  consequence  the  rapid  growth  within  him  of  the  odious 
vices  peculiar  to  being  an  accomplice)  such  as  envy,  mistrust,  and 
jealous  curiosity. 

It  will,  therefore,  be  easily  understood  that  Doctor  Baleinier, 
while  perfectly  resolved  to  aid  M.  d'Aigrigny  in  all  his  projects,  was 
yet  most  eager  to  learn  what  it  was  he  had  been  kept  ignorant  of  in 
the  affair ;  therefore,  surmounting  his  hesitation,  and  finding  the 
present  opportunity  not  only  favourable  but  urgent,  he  at  length 
ventured  to  observe  to  Adrienne, 

"I  am  about  to  put  to  you  a  somewhat  impertinent  question,  but 
should  you  view  it  in  that  light  do  not  answer  it." 

"  Proceed,  I  beg  of  you  !" 

"  Some  time  ago,  a  few  minutes  before  the  commissary  of  police 
was  announced  to  your  aunt,  I  fancied  you  spoke  of  some  vast 
expectancies  which  had  been  kept  from  your  knowledge  up  to  the 
present  moment." 

"  I  did  so  express  myself." 

"Those  words,"  continued  M.  Baleinier,  proceeding  slowly  and 
emphatically,  "appeared  to  me  to  make  u  lively  impression  on  the 
princess !" 


304  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  In  fact,"  said  Adrienne,  "  the  impression  was  so  lively  as  to  change 
mere  suspicions  into  certainties." 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  charming  young  friend,"  pursued  M.  de 
Baleinier,  in  a  tone  of  paternal  kindness,  "  that,  if  I  revert  to  this  cir- 
cumstance, it  is  but  to  offer  my  services  should  they  be  useful  to  you 
in  any  emergency  :  otherwise,  if  you  see  the  shadow  of  an  objection  in 
giving  me  any  further  information,  just  forget  that  the  subject  has  been 
iiamed  between  us." 

Adrienne  became  pensive  and  serious:  after  a  silence  of  some 
moments,  she  said  to  M.  Baleinier, 

"  There  are  some  parts  of  this  affair  of  which  I  am  myself  ignorant, 
others  that  I  am  at  liberty  to  tell  you.  Still,  though  in  return  for  your 
kindness  of  to-day^I  am  but  too  glad  to  afford  you  another  proof  of 
the  entire  confidence  I  place  in  you,  you  must  excuse  my  concealing 
several  particulars — because  those  I  dare  not  divulge." 

"  Then,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  doctor,  with  an  air  of 
mortified  regret,  "  you  shall  tell  me  nothing,  since  it  would  have  the 
appearance  of  a  recompence  for  the  trifling  service  I  have  rendered ; 
when,  in  reality,  I  am  paid  a  thousand  times  over  by  the  pleasure  I 
experience  in  serving  you." 

"  Listen  I"  said  Adrienne,  without  appearing  to  notice  the  delicate 
scruples  of  M.  Baleinier.  "  I  have  powerful  reasons  for  believing  that 
an  immense  inheritance  must,  either  sooner  or  later,  be  divided  between 
the  various  branches  of  my  family,  unknown  to  me  at  present ;  for, 
after  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  the  persons  from  whom  they 
are  descended  were  dispersed  through  various  kingdoms,  where  they 
experienced  very  different  fortunes." 

"Really!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  with  the  most  intense  interest. 
"  Where  is  this  inheritance  ?  Whom  doe»  it  come  from  ?  in  whose 
hands  is  it  at  present  ?  " 

'I  know  not !" 

'How,  then,  will  you  establish  your  claim  ?  " 

'I  shall  be  informed  hereafter." 

'  And  who  will  inform  you  ?" 

'  I  cannot  tell  you." 

'  From  whom  did  you  learn  the  existence  of  this  inheritance  ?" 

'Neither  can  I  tell  you  that,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  a  tone  of  gentle 
sadness,  which  contrasted  greatly  with  the  habitual  energy  of  her 
manner  :  "  it  is  a  secret !  a  great,  a  strange  secret  I  And  when  in  those 
moments  of  excitement  in  which  you  have  sometimes  surprised  me,  I 
have  thought  of  the  extraordinary  circumstances  connected  with  this 
mystery,  oh  !  then  great  and  magnificent  ideas  have  awakened  within 
me,  and  my  thoughts  have  been  too  mighty  to  tell." 

And  as  the  last  words  fell  from  her  lips,  Adrienne  sunk  into  a 
reverie  so  profound,  that  M.  Baleinier  made  no  further  effort  to  with- 
draw her  from  it;  for  one  reason — it  prevented  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville  from  remarking  the  direction  they  were  taking;  then,  he 
himself  was  not  sorry  for  the  leisure  to  arrange  the  different  ideas 
awakened  by  this  revelation,  incomplete  as  it  had  been.  With  his 
habitual  perspicacity,  he  had  all  along  suspected  that  some  expected 
wealth  was  the  secret  hinge  of  D' Aigriguy's  movements ;  he,  there- 


A  FALSE  FRIEND.  305 

fore,  determined  to  make  the  affair  the  subject  of  a  private  memorial. 
Of  two  things,  one  was  certain  :  either  D'Aigrigny  acted  as  he  was  now 
doing  by  the  directions  of  his  Order,  or  from  his  own  personal  reasons. 
In  the  first  case,  the  doctor's  secret  intimation  would  but  confirm  an 
already  known  fact;  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  bring  a  most 
important  one  to  light. 

For  some  time,  both  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  and  M.  Baleinier 
maintained  a  profound  silence,  unbroken  even  by  the  noise  of  the 
wheels  as  they  rolled  over  the  thick  snow  which  covered  the  ground, 
for  the  streets  were  becoming  more  and  more  deserted. 

Spite  of  his  habitual  subtility,  his  confident  boldness,  and  the 
blindness  of  his  dupe,  the  doctor  did  not  feel  quite  at  his  ease  as  to 
the  result  of  his  scheme  as  the  critical  moment  approached,  for  well 
he  knew  that,  were  the  slightest  suspicion  awakened  in  the  mind  of 
Adrienne,  utter  ruin  to  his  projects  must  inevitably  follow. 

Adrienne,  fatigued  with  the  events  of  this  painful  day,  shivered 
with  exhaustion  and  the  biting  frost,  which  became  momentarily  more 
intense,  and  in  her  haste  to  accompany  M.  Baleinier  she  had  forgotten 
to  take  either  a  shawl  or  a  cloak. 

For  some  time  past  the  carriage  had  kept  close  to  a  very  high  and 
strongly  built  wall,  which,  covered  with  snow,  stood  out  in  bold  relief 
from  the  thick  darkness  of  the  heavens.  A  deep  and  gloomy  silence 
pervaded  the  spot. 

The  carriage  drew  up. 

The  footman  got  down  and  went  to  the  entrance  gates,  where  he 
gave  two  quick  knocks  of  a  peculiar  kind ;  then,  after  waiting  some 
length  of  time,  he  gave  a  third. 

Adrienne  had  taken  no  notice  of  this  circumstance,  for  the  knocking 
had  not  been  loud,  and  besides  the  doctor  had  also  skilfully  called  off 
her  attention  by  speaking  at  the  very  instant,  so  as  to  effectually 
prevent  this  species  of  signal  from  reaching  her  ear. 

"  Well,  here  we  arc  !"  said  he  gaily  to  Adrienne ;  "  now  mind  you 
must  very  captivating — that  is  to  say,  you  must  be  yourself !" 

"I  will  do  my  best,  depend  upon  it,"  rejoined  Adrienne,  smiling. 
Then,  spite  of  herself,  shuddering  with  the  cold,  she  .said,  "  What  a 
bitter  night !  I  really  must  own,  my  good  doctor,  that,  after  I  have 
been  to  fetch  my  poor  little  relations  from  the  house  of  the  mother  of 
our  honest  protege,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  find  myself  this  evening  in 
my  nicely  warmed  and  well-lighted  drawing-room,  for  you  know  my 
aversion  to  cold  or  darkness." 

"  That  is  quite  natural,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  gallant  tone  ;  "  the 
loveliest  flowers  can  only  bloom  in  light  and  heat." 

While  these  words  passed  between  the  doctor  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville,  the  heavy  gates  swung  back  with  a  grating  sound,  and  the 
carriage  entered  the  court-yard. 

The  doctor  descended  first  and  offered  his  arm  to  Adrienne. 


20 


306  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 


THE  MINISTERS  RESIDENCE. 

THE  carriage  had  drawn  up  before  a  small  flight  of  steps  covered 
with  snow,  and  conducting  to  a  vestibule  lighted  by  a  single  lamp.  As 
Adrienne  leaned  on  the  arm  of  the  doctor  while  ascending  the  slippery 
stairs,  he  exclaimed, 

"  Good  heavens !  how  you  tremble !  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  she,  shivering  violently ;  "  I  never  felt  the  cold  so 
severely.  In  my  haste  I  forgot  even  to  throw  on  a  shawl." 

Then,  as  they  reached  the  top  of  the  ascent,  she  added, 

"  What  a  gloomy-looking  place  !  " 

"  It  is  what  the  minister  styles  his  private  dwelling — the  sanctum 
sanctorttm,  where  the  great  man  retires  from  vulgar  gaze,"  replied 
M.  de  Baleinier,  smiling.  "  But  pray  walk  in." 

So  saying,  he  pushed  open  the  door  of  a  large  and  completely 
deserted  hall. 

"  Well,"  said  M.  Baleinier,  striving  to  conceal  the  uneasiness  he 
felt  under  the  mask  of  gaiety,  "  I  can't  say  much  for  the  splendour  of 
our  friend's  private  residence !  Not  a  footman  !  not  an  official  servant 
to  receive  visitors  I  However,  fortunately,"  continued  he,  opening  the 
door  of  a  room  communicating  with  the  vestibule,  "  bred  up  in  the 
seraglio,  I  know  its  every  turn." 

As  the  doctor  uttered  these  words,  he  ushered  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville  into  a  salon  hung  with  green  paper,  patterned  over  with 
velvet  flowers,  and  splendidly  furnished  with  mahogany  chairs,  arm- 
chairs, &c.  covered  with  yellow  stamped  velvet.  The  flooring  was 
most  carefully  polished ;  and  a  circular  lamp,  which  scarcely  afforded 
more  than  half  the  light  it  was  intended  to  convey,  hung  from  the 
ceiling  at  a  much  greater  height  than  it  is  usual  to  place  lamps. 

Astonished  at  finding  a  minister's  abode  so  very  modestly  furnished, 
Adrienne,  although  she  entertained  no  suspicion,  could  not  restrain  an 
exclamation  of  surprise,  and  paused  an  instant  on  the  threshold  of  the 
door. 

M.  Baleinier,  whose  arm  she  held,  guessing  the  cause  of  her  hesi- 
tation, said  to  her,  smilingly, 

"  This  house  strikes  you  as  somewhat  mean  for  the  residence  of  a 
great  man — an  excellency — does  it  not?  But  if  you  only  knew  what  a 

thing  constitutional  economy  is In  fact,  when  you  see  the  master,  you 

will  find  very  little  difference  between  the  plainness  of  his  appearance 
and  that  of  his  hotel.  But  have  the  goodness  to  wait  for  me  a  little 
while :  I  will  go  and  open  our  business  to  the  miuistcr,  and  prepare 
him  to.  receive  you.  I  will  be  back  directly." 

And  gently  disengaging  his  arm  from  that  of  Adrienne,  who  in- 
voluntarily clung  to  him,  the  doctor  opened  a  little  side-door  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Adrienne  de  Cardoville  was  now  left  quite  alone. 

Although  unable  to  account  for  it,  a  strange  and  undefinable  dread 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE,  307 

stole  over  the  mind  of  the  poor  girl  as  she  surveyed  the  cold,  scantily 
furnished  apartment,  with  its  uncurtained  windows ;  and  as  she  more 
closely  observed  the  peculiarities  in  the  mode  of  furnishing  it,  a  vague 
sense  of  impending  danger  quickened  the  beating  of  her  heart,  as  she 
more  attentively  scrutinised  the  dull  chamber  in  which  the  doctor  had 
placed  her. 

Having  instinctively  approached  the  now  extinguished  •  fire,  she 
perceived  with  astonishment  that  a  close  iron-work,  condemned  all 
who  sought  its  proximity  to  keep  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
power  of  touching  it ;  while  the  opening  towards  the  chimney  was 
similarly  secured,  and  the  fire-irons  chained  to  the  wall  by  powerful 
rivets  of  iron.  While  wondering  at  so  strange  a  fancy,  she  mecha- 
nically seated  herself  in  an  arm-chair,  which  she  endeavoured  to  draw 
to  a  more  agreeable  situation  than  the  one  it  occupied  against  the  wall 
— but  in  vain. 

Equally  struck  with  this  additional  caprice  (as  she  conceived  it  to 
be)  on  the  part  of  the  owner,  she  examined  the  various  articles  of 
furniture  throughout  the  room,  and  found  that  each  of  them,  as  well 
as  the  arm-chair  which  had  so  effectually  resisted  her  desire  to  move 
it,  was  firmly  fastened  to  the  wainscot  by  an  iron  band.  Unable  to 
repress  a  smile,  Adrienne  could  not  help  thinking  that  the  great  man 
she  had  come  to  visit  must  have  a  poor  opinion  of  those  who  sought 
his  presence,  since  he  found  it  necessary  to  chain  his  furniture  so 
securely ;  but  this*  endeavour  to  derive  amusement  in  the  midst  of  a 
place  so  calculated  to  excite  opposite  feelings  was  a  forced  effort  on 
the  part  of  Adrienne,  who  each  instant  felt  an  increase  of  awe  and 
vague  apprehension  :  for  a  stillness  like  that  of  a  house  into  which 
death  has  entered  prevailed,  and  no  sound  or  busy  feet  proclaimed 
the  bustle  and  stir  usually  to  be  met  with  in  ministerial  abodes.  The 
perfect  sik-nce  continued  unbroken,  save  by  the  violent  gusts  of  wind 
which  rattled  and  shook  the  windows  throughout  the  house. 

More  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  away  ;  still  M.  Baleinier 
did  not  return.  Uneasy,  as  well  as  impatient,  Adrienne  determined  to 
summon  some  one  who  should  signify  to  M.  Baleinier  or  the  minister 
her  anxiety  to  complete  the  affair  which  had  brought  her  there.  As 
she  rose  to  search  for  the  bell-rope  beside  the  looking-glass,  she  dis- 
covered, if  not  the  bell  she  sought,  that  what  she  had  (thanks  to  the 
imperfect  light  of  the  place)  mistaken  for  glass  was,  in  reality,  nothing 
but  a  very  highly  polished  *heet  of  tin.  Approaching  the  strange 
contrivance  somewhat  hastily,  she  feared  she  had  knocked  over  a 
bronze  candlestick;  but  her  apprehensions  were  needless:  the  article 
in  question,  with  the  timepiece,  was  securely  ri vetted  to  the  marble 
mantelpiece. 

Under  a  peculiar  state  of  the  mind  we  are  frequently  apt  to  attach 
an  immense  importance  to  matters  we  should,  at  other  times,  pass  over 
as  too  insignificant  to  notice.  But,  at  the  present  moment,  these 
immovable  candlesticks — the  furniture  so  firmly  secured  to  the  wall 
— the  glass  replaced  by  a  sheet  of  metal — the  dulness  of  the  place, 
with  its  death-like  stillness,  and  the  protracted  absence  of  M.  Baleinier, 
— all  combined  to  affect  Adrienne's  imagination,  until  she  became 
seriously  alarmed. 

Such,  however,  was  her  habitual  confidence  in  the  doctor,  that  she 


308  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

energetically  struggled  with  her  terrors,  even  blaming  the  allowing 
herself  to  be  disturbed  by  trifles  which,  after  all,  might  mean  nothing, 
and  were  really  not  of  sufficient  importance  to  occupy  her  thoughts  so 
long  as  they  had  done.  As  for  M.  Baleinier,  he  was,  no  doubt,  waiting 
till  the  many  occupations  of  the  minister  permitted  his  obtaining  the 
audience  he  sought. 

But,  spite  of  every  effort,  the  poor  girl,  chilled  with  the  cold,  and 
wearied  out  by  the  anxiety  of  her  mind,  could  not  shut  out  the  whis- 
perings of  fear,  which,  at  length,  gained  such  complete  dominion  over 
her,  as  to  induce  her  to  do  what  no  other  circumstances  could  have 
effected.  She  gently  approached  the  little  door  by  which  the  doctor 
had  disappeared,  and  listened  attentively.  Her  heart  beat,  and  she 
held  her  breath — all  her  senses  seemed  concentrated  in  one ;  but  no 
sound  reached  her.  All  at  once  a  dull,  heavy  noise,  as  if  something 
weighty  had  fallen  just  overhead,  struck  on  her  startled  ear — she  even 
fancied  she  could  discern  stifled  groans. 

Quickly  glancing  towards  that  part  of  the  ceiling  whence  the  sound 
had  proceeded,  she  saw  several  pieces  of  the  plaster  which  had  been 
detached  by  the  concussion  overhead  fall  to  the  ground. 

Wholly  unable  any  longer  to  repress  her  fear,  Adrienne  flew  to  the 
door  by  which  sh»  had  entered  with  the  doctor,  to  call  for  assistance. 
But,  to  her  extreme  surprise,  she  found  it  fastened  on  the  outside. 
This  was,  indeed,  beyond  the  power  of  any  reasoning  to  understand. 
Still  she  could  not  recollect  having  heard  the  slightest  sound  of 
turning  the  key  in  the  lock,  which  was  also  on  the  outer  side  of  the  door. 

Becoming  seriously  alarmed,  the  frightened  girl  flew  back  to  the 
door  at  which  she  had  been  listening,  and  by  which  the  doctor  had 
disappeared. 

Alas !  it  was,  like  the  other,  too  securely  fastened  from  without  to 
admit  of  her  opening  it. 

Still  striving  to  keep  down  the  terror  which  momentarily  gained 
more  complete  dominion  over  her  senses,  Adrienne  called  to  her  aid 
all  the  courage  and  firmness  of  her  character,  and  sought  to  reason 
herself  out  of  weakly  yielding  to  the  circumstances,  however  alarming, 
by  which  she  was  now  surrounded. 

"  I  must  have  been  mistaken,"  said  she :  "  something  has  fallen 
overhead,  and  my  imagination  has  supplied  the  groans.  There  are  a 
thousand  reasons  in  favour  of  its  being  some  thing,  and  not  some 
person,  I  heard  fall.  But  then  these  doors,  so  strongly  fastened ! 
Probably  no  one  knows  of  my  being  in  the  house,  and  may  have 
closed  up  the  apartment  under  the  idea  of  no  person  being  in  it." 

As  she  thought  thus,  Adrienne  cast  another  careful  yet  anxious 
survey  over  the  apartment ;  and  then  said,  with  a  firm  and  resolved 
manner, 

"  This  is  weak  and  silly ! — thus  to  try  and  deceive  myself  as  to 
my  present  position,  and  to  shut  my  eyes  upon  the  difficulties,  perhaps 
dangers,  which  surround  me,  instead  of  boldly  and  courageously  look- 
ing them  in  the  face.  One  thmg  is  certain :  this  is  the  house  of  no 
minister — a  thousand  reasons  now  prove  the  contrary  to  me  !  M. 
Baleinier  has  therefore  deceived  me  :  but  wherefore  can  he  have  done 
so  ? — why  has  he  brought  me  here  ? — and  where  am  I  ?  " 

These  questions  were  more  easily  asked  than  answered :  one  fact 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE.  309 

alone  remained  incontrovertible — that  she  was  the  victim  of  M.  Halci- 
nier's  treachery. 

To  a  mind  so  noble,  so  generous  as  Adrienne's,  there  was  sonic- 
thing  so  abhorrent  in  this  certainty,  that  she  sought  to  repel  it  by 
recalling  the  confiding  friendship  with  which  she  had  ever  treated  the 
man  she  now  suspected ;  and  feeling  within  herself  how  impossible  it 
was  for  any  one  to  repay  her  open  trustfulness  with  such  black  perfidy, 
she  bitterly  exclaimed, 

"  See  to  what  hateful  and  unjust  suspicions  we  may  be  led  by  fear 
and  weakness !  No,  no  !  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  credit  deceit  so  base,  so 
heartless,  until  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  doubt,  and  when  borne  out 
by  the  clearest  confirmation  !  This  state  is  too  dreadful  to  endure ! 
Let  me  summon  some  one,  who  shall  at  once  end  all  these  doubts — 
it  is  the  only  means  of  clearing  them  up." 

Then,  remembering  there  was  no  bell,  she  said, 

"  Well,  never  mind ! — I  will  knock.  I  dare  say  I  can  make  myself 
heard  ;  and  then  a  servant  will  be  sure  to  come  and  open  the  door." 

So  saying,  Adrienne  knocked  against  the  door  with  her  delicate 
knuckles  again  and  again.  By  the  dulness  of  the  sound  produced,  it 
was  e-asy  to  imagine  the  extreme  thickness  of  the  door. 

Not  the  slightest  noise  announced  that  her  signal  of  distress  had 
been  heard. 

She  flew  to  the  other  door,  knocked  as  she  had  previously  done, 
and  with  the  same  effect — the  profound  silence  of  the  place  being 
disturbed  only  by  the  loud  gusts  of  wind  which  howled  around  the 
building. 

"  I  am  not  more  timid  than  other  people,"  said  Adrienne,  shud- 
dering: "I  know  not  whether  it  is  the  deathly  chilliness  of  this  place, 
but  1  tremble  involuntarily ;  and  though  I  try  my  utmost  to  guard 
against  weakly  indulging  my  fears,  yet  I  cannot  help  fancying  that  any 
person  would  consider  what  is  passing  here  as  strange  and  alarming 
as  I  do." 

All  at  once  the  most  frightful  cries  and  savage  yells  resounded 
from  the  room  situated  over  the  one  in  which  she  stood,  succeeded  by 
a  hurried  and  violent  trampling  of  feet,  as  though  several  persons  were 
engaged  in  a  desperate  struggle. 

In  the  first  shock  of  the  moment  Adrienne  screamed  loudly;  then, 
becoming  pale  as  death,  stood  for  an  instant  mute  and  motionless  with 
terror :  but,  quickly  recovering  herself,  she  rushed  to  one  of  the  win- 
dows and  threw  open  the  shutters. 

A  violent  gust  of  wind,  mixed  with  sleet  and  snow,  rushed  into  the 
apartment,  and,  after  filling  the  place  with  the  smoke  and  vapour  from 
the  flickering  lamp,  finally  extinguished  it.  Thus,  plunged  in  utter 
darkness,  her  hands  tightly  grasping  the  iron  bars  with  which  the 
window  was  barricaded,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  yielding  to  her 
long-restrained  alarm,  was  about  to  call  aloud  for  help,  when  an  unex- 
pected sight  froze  the  blood  within  her  veins,  and,  for  a  time,  rendered 
her  speechless  with  terror. 

Nearly  opposite  to  where  she  stood  was  a  similar  wing  of  the 
building;  and,  twinkling  amid  the  murkiness  of  the  night,  she  saw  a 
large  window,  from  which  proceeded  a  clear,  strong  light.  Through 
this  curtainless  window  Adrienne  saw  a  pale,  haggard,  emaciated- 


310  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

looking  creature,  wrapped  in  a  sort  of  large  white  cloth  like  a  sheet, 
part  of  which  seemed  to  drag  on  the  ground.  This  unhappy  being 
kept  passing  rapidly  backwards  and  forwards  before  the  window,  with 
a  hasty  and  ceaseless  motion. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  this  window,  which  shone  brightly  amid 
the  darkness  which  prevailed,  Adrienne  stood  transfixed  with  horror 
at  the  sight  of  this  fearful  spectre.  Then,  as  her  agonised  fears  over- 
powered her,  she  shrieked  loudly  and  wildly  for  help,  without,  how- 
ever, quitting  her  hold  of  the  iron  bars  she  still  convulsively  grasped. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  minutes,  and  while  Adrienne  was  repeating 
her  cries  for  assistance,  two  huge  women  crept  softly  into  the  room, 
whilst  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  still  clinging  to  the  window,  did 
not  perceive  their  approach.  These  persons  were  from  forty  to  fifty 
years  of  age,  strong,  powerful,  and  masculine  in  appearance,  shabbily 
and  slovenly  dressed,  after  the  style  and  fashion  of  servants  of  the 
very  lowest  class.  Over  their  dresses  they  wore  large  aprons  of  coarse 
blue  cloth,  reaching  up  to  their  very  throat,  round  which  they  exactly 
fitted,  and  falling  even  to  their  feet. 

One  of  them,  who  held  a  lamp  in  her  hand,  had  a  broad,  red, 
shining  face,  with  a  large  pimpled  and  inflamed  nose,  small  greenish 
eyes,  and  a  quantity  of  frizzled  hair,  the  colour  of  flax,  sticking  out 
from  beneath  her  dirty  cap. 

The  other  was  a  hard,  bony,  withered-looking  hag,  whose  thin, 
forbidding,  parchment-like  visage  was  enshrouded  beneath  a  black  cap. 
She  was  deeply  marked  with  the  small-pox,  displayed  a  pair  of  thick 
black  eyebrows,  which  nearly  met,  and  had  an  almost  corresponding 
fringe  upon  her  upper  lip.  This  woman  carried  over  her  arm  a  vest- 
ment of  thick,  strong  grey  cloth,  which,  though  but  partially  unfolded, 
exhibited  a  garment  of  singular  make  as  well  as  texture. 

Both  these  persons  had  glided  stealthily  into  the  room  by  the  little 
door,  at  the  instant  when  Adrienne,  impelled  by  her  uncontrollable 
terror,  was  holding  by  the  bars  and  calling  for  help.  Making  a  sign 
to  each  other,  these  women  pointed  to  the  poor  girl ;  and  while  one 
of  them  set  down  her  lamp  on  the  mantelpiece,  the  other  (the  one  in 
the  black  cap),  approaching  the  casement,  placed  her  great  bony  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  who,  turning  quickly 
round,  screamed  with  fresh  alarm  at  the  sight  of  so  forbidding  and 
repulsive  an  object. 

But  the  first  impulse  of  terror  over,  Adrienue  felt  even  relieved 
and  glad  at  the  presence  of  this  woman,  who,  however  unpleasant  to 
behold,  was,  at  least,  some  one  to  whom  she  could  speak;  and  she 
eagerly  inquired,  in  a  more  subdued  tone, 

"  Where  is  M .  Baleinier  ?  " 

The  women  looked  at  each  other,  exchanged  signs  of  intelligence, 
but  made  no  reply. 

"  I  ask  you,"  repeated  Adrienne,  "  where  is  M.  Baleinier,  the  gen- 
tleman who  brought  me  here  ?  I  wish  to  see  him  directly  I  " 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  the  fat  woman. 

"  Gone  I  "  exclaimed  Adrienne ;  "  gone  without  me  I  Gracious 
Heaven  I  what  can  this  mean  ?  " 

Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  she  added, 

"  Fetch  me  a  coach  I " 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE.  311 

The  women  looked  at  each  other,  shrugged  up  their  shoulders,  but 
said  nothing. 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness,"  said  Adrienne,  still  restraining  her- 
self, "  to  fetch  me  a  coach  ?  Since  M.  Baleinier  has  gone  without  me, 
I  must  return  home  alone  ;  but  I  wish  to  leave  this  place  instantly." 

"  Come,  come,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  large  woman  (who  was 
called  Thomas),  pretending  not  to  understand  what  Adrienne  said  ; 
"  come,  it  is  time  now — you  must  go  to  bed  ! " 

"  Go  to  bed  ! "  shrieked  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  with  intense 
alarm.  "For  God's  sake,  do  you  mean  to  drive  me  mad?"  Then 
addressing  the  other  woman,  she  said,  "  What  house  is  this  ?  Where 
am  I?  tell  me,  I  command  you,  instantly  I  "  . 

Oh  !  why,"  answered  Thomas,  in  a  rough  voice,  "  you  are  in  a 
house  where  you  must  not  stand  howling  out  of  window,  as  you  did 
just  now." 

"  And  where  folks  are  not  allowed  to  put  lamps  out,  as  you  have 
been  doing  ;  because,  if  you  do,"  added  the  woman  in  the  black  cap, 
whose  name  was  Gervase,  why,  I  shall  just  quarrel  about  it,  that's  all." 

Adrienne,  unable  to  utter  another  word,  yet  shuddering  with  fear, 
continued  to  gaze  on  these  horrible  females  with  stupih'ed  earnestness ; 
in  vain  did  she  rack  her  brain  to  devise  a  reason  for  all  she  saw  and 
heard.  A 11  at  once  she  imagined  she  had  discovered  the  true  cause  of 
all  her  present  sufferings,  and  in  a  joyful  tone  she  exclaimed, 

"  I  see !  I  see !  there  is  some  mistake  here ;  what  it  is  I  do  not 
know ;  but,  assuredly,  a  mistake  does  exist  You  take  me  for  some 
one  else.  Do  you  know  who  1  am  ?  I  am  Adrienne  de  Cardoville — 
do  you  hear?  Adrienne  de  Cardoville!  So  you  see  I  am  at  liberty 
to  leave  this  house  whenever  I  please.  No  one  living  has  the  right  to 
detain  me  ;  therefore,  I  desire  you  will  go  this  moment  and  fetch  me  a 
coach,  and  if  you  cannot  obtain  one,  find  me  a  safe  guide  who  will 
accompany  mo  and  conduct  me  to  the  Hotel  de  Saint-Dizier,  Rue  de 
Babylone.  I  will  liberally  reward  this  person,  and  you  likewise." 

"  Come,"  said  Thomas,  "  will  you  leave  off  talking  such  nonsense 
and  come  along  with  us  ?  What  is  the  good  of  running  on  in  that 
way  ?  La  I  we're  used  to  it." 

"  Take  care  I"  said  Adrienne,  who  was  fain  to  try  every  method  to 
extricate  herself;  "if  you  attempt  to  detain  me  here  forcibly,  you 
will  be  sorry  for  it.  You  little  know  the  consequences  you  will  draw 
down  upon  yourselves  !  " 

"  Will  you  come  to  bed,  or  will  you  not  ?  "  repeated  Gervase,  in 
an  angry,  impatient  voice. 

"  Listen  to  me  !"  exclaimed  Adrienne  hastily  ;  "  let  me  out  of  this 
house,  and  I  will  give  each  of  you  two  thousand  francs.  Do  you  not 
think  it  sufficient?  Oh,  then  I  will  give  you  ten,  twenty — what  you 
please  !  Am  I  not  rich  enough  to  content  you  ?  But  let  me  go  hence — 
for  God's  sake  do  not  hinder  me  !  Oh,  I  beseech  you,  let  me  go !  1 

will  not  stay  !  —  it  terrifies  me  to  death!  I "  cried  the  poor  girl 

in  distracting  tones. 

"  I  say,  Thomas,  she  bids  high.  Twenty  thousand  francs !  not  so 
bad,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  her  alone,  Gervase ;  they  all  sing  the  same  song  at  first." 

"  Well,  theii,"  cried  Adrienne,  calling  all  her  energy  and  deter- 
mination, to  her  aid  in  her  present  desperate  position,  "  since  neither 


312  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

reasons,  prayers,  nor  threats,  avail  any  tiling,  I  tell  you,  decidedly,  go 
/  will,  and  this  very  instant !  We  shall  see  whether  you  have  the  auda- 
city to  employ  force  to  detain  me  ! " 

So  saying,  Adrienne  proceeded  resolutely  towards  the  door.  But 
just  at  this  instant  the  wild  harsh  screams  that  had  preceded  the 
struggle  which  had  so  terrified  Adrienne  were  repeated,  only  this  time 
there  was  no  trampling  of  feet. 

"  Oh,  what  dreadful  cries  ! "  said  Adrienne,  suddenly  stopping, 
and,  in  her  terror,  advancing  towards  the  females.  "  Do  you  hear 
those  cries  ?  Where  do  they  come  from  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of 
them  ?  What  house  is  this  ? — what  dreadful  deeds,  oh,  God !  are  going 
on  in  it,  to  call  forth  such  fearful  screams !  And  there,  too,"  added 
she,  almost  wildly,  pointing  to  the  opposite  building  with  its  illuminated 
window,  before  which  the  pallid  figure  kept  up  its  rapid  motion  with 
untiring  perseverance ;  "  look  there,  I  say  !  do  you  see  ?  Tell  me,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  you  particularly  want  to  know,"  answered  Thomas, 
"  that  person  over  there  is,  like  you,  not  over-strong  in  the  sense  way." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
clasping  her  hands  with  terror ;  "  for  mercy's  sake,  speak  out,  and  tell 
me  what  sort  of  a  house  (his  is,  and  what  they  do  in  it? 

"  What  they  will  do  to  you,  if  you  behave  bad,  and  refuse  to 
come  to  bed  when  you  are  told  to,"  answered  Gervase,  with  a  scowl. 

"  They  will  just  put  that  on  you,"  said  Thomas,  holding  out  the 
garment  she  carried  under  her  arm.  "  Yes,  yes !  that's  the  way  they 
serve  such  as  give  trouble  in  this  house  —  they  just  clap  a  strait- 
waistcoat  on  :  do  you  see  ? 

"  Ah  I "  shrieked  Adrienne,  concealing  her  face  between  her  hands, 
to  escape  from  so  horrible  a  sight. 

A  fearful  revelation  now  entered  her  mind ;  and  one  glance  at  the 
hideous  garment  carried  by  the  woman  told  her  all. 

After  all  the  varied  emotions  of  so  trying  a  day,  this  last  shock 
produced  a  fearful  effect  on  her  over-excited  frame  ;  a  faintness  seized 
her,  her  hands  fell  listless  by  her  side,  a  mortal  paleness  overspread 
her  countenance,  her  whole  body  trembled  almost  to  the  extinction  of 
her  breath,  as,  sinking  on  her  knees,  and  pointing  with  averted  eyes  to 
the  fear-inspiring  camisole  (or  jacket),  she  faintly  and  in  almost  expiring 
accents  cried, 

"  No !  no  !  for  the  love  of  God  !  not  that — not  that !  Pardon, 

pardon.  I  will  do  what  you  desire  me "  And  then,  her  strength 

being  utterly  exhausted,  she  fainted,  and,  but  for  the  two  women 
catching  her  in  their  arms,  she  would  have  fallen  on  the  floor. 

"  I  declare  if  she  hasn'.t  fainted,"  said  Thomas.  "  Well,  that's 
lucky  :  now,  then,  we  can  take  her  nicely  to  her  bed,  and  undress  her 
without  any  bother  or  trouble." 

"  Well,  then,  you  just  carry  her,'1  said  Gervase,  "and  I'll  take  the 
lamp." 

And  accordingly  the  ponderous  arms  of  the  gigantic  Thomas  seized 
upon  poor  Adrienne,  and  carried  her  off  as  easily  as  though  she  had 
been  only  a  sleeping  infant,  into  the  chamber  by  which  M.  Baleinier 
had  disappeared. 

This  apartment,  though  extremely  clean,  was  almost  destitute  of 
furniture  ;  a  green  paper  covered  the  walls ;  a  small,  low,  iron  bedstead 


I  HE     CAPTIVK 


THE  MINISTER'S  RESIDENCE.  313 

stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room ;  a  stove  placed  in  the  chimney 
Mas  surrounded  by  an  iron-work,  which  forbade  all  approach  to  it ;  a 
table  affixed  to  the  wall,  a  chair  standing  before  the  table,  but  likewise 
riveted  firmly  to  the  flooring ;  a  mahogany  commode,  and  a  straw 
arm-chair,  completed  the  scanty  fittings-up  of  this  cold,  comfortless 
chamber;  the  windows,  without  curtains,  were  lined  on  the  inside 
with  iron  gratings,  so  as  to  completely  prevent  the  jnmates  of  the 
gloomy  apartment  from  doing  any  mischief  either  to'  themselves  or 
the  panes  of  glass. 

It  was  in  this  miserable  chamber,  which  so  painfully  contrasted 
with  the  almost  fairy-like  elegance  of  the  pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Baby- 
lone,  that  Adrienne  was  carried  by  Thomas,  who,  aided  by  Gervase, 
laid  the  inanimate  form  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  on  the  bed, 
placing  the  lamp  on  a  little  slab  at  the  head  of  it. 

While  one  of  the  keepers  held  her,  the  other  unfastened  and  took 
off  the  poor  girl's  kerseymere  dress,  her  head  hanging  helplessly  on  her 
bosom.  Although  she  was  perfectly  insensible,  two  large  tears  trickled 
slowly  from  her  closed  eyelids,  whose  large  dark  lashes  marked  the 
transparent  whiteness  of  her  cheek,  while  her  ivory  neck  and  bosom 
were  covered  with  the  silky  tresses  of  her  rich  golden  hair,  which  had 
become  unfastened  when  she  fell.  When  unlacing  her  bodice,  of 
satin  less  soft,  white,  and  delicate,  than  the  youthful  form  which  rose  and 
fell  beneatli  the  lace  and  cambric  which  surrounded  it,  like  an  alabaster 
figure  slightly  tinged  with  a  carnation  hue,  the  horrible  touch  of  the 
rough,  hard,  horny  hands  of  the  old  hags,  without  completely  recalling 
the  wandering  senses  of  the  poor  victim  they  grasped,  yet  produced  a 
sort  of  spasmodic  shudder,  as  their  coarse  fingers  came  in  contact  with 
the  bare  arms  and  shoulders  of  the  helpless  girl  they  were  inflicting 
their  brutal  torments  on. 

"  La,  what  little  tiny  feet ! "  said  the  one  who,  stooping  down,  was 
taking  off  Adrienne's  shoes  and  stockings.  "  I  declare,  I  could  hold 
them  both  in  the  palm  of  my  hand." 

And  well  enough  might  the  woman  break  forth  into  admiration  of 
the  small  rosy  foot,  smooth  and  white  as  that  of  a  child,  divested  by 
their  ofliciousness  of  its  delicate  covering,  and  exhibiting  the  appear- 
ance of  an  alabaster  model,  with  each  azure  vein  lightly  traced  over  the 
surface ;  while  the  ancle,  knee,  and  leg,  might,  for  fineness  of  propor- 
tion, have  vied  with  the  celebrated  hunting  Diana  of  antique  celebrity. 

"  And,  goodness  me  !  look  at  her  long  hair  ! "  said  Thomas  :  "  la  I 
how  soft  and  smooth  it  is,  to  be  sure  !  I'm  certain  she'd  step  upon  it 
if  she  was  only  upright.  Well,  I  thinks  it'oud  be  quite  a  pity  to  cut 
it  off  when  they  comes  to  put  the  ice  'top  of  her  head." 

And  so  saying,  Thomas,  after  her  rough  fashion,  grasped  the  mag- 
nificent mass  of  rich  hair  which  fell  down  Adrienne's  back. 

Alas !  it  was  no  longer  the  white  and  delicate  fingers  of  Geor- 
gette, Florine,  or  Hebe,  arranging  the  beautiful  hair  of  their  beloved 
mistress,  with  as  much  affection  as  pride. 

And  as  the  coarse  touch  of  the  rough  hands  of  the  two  keepers 
offended  Adrienne's  delicate  skin,  she  experienced  a  repetition  of  the 
same  nervous  shuddering  which  had  first  attacked  her,  but  with  this 
difference,  that  each  attack  became  stronger  and  more  severe. 

Could  it  have  been  the  effect  of  a  sort  of  magnetic  repulsion,  or 


314  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

was  it  owing  to  the  severe  cold  of  the  night,  that  Adrienne,  after  re- 
peated shivering  fits,  at  length,  though  slowly,  recovered  her  senses  ? 

Words  cannot  describe  her  terror,  alarm,  and  horror,  her  justly  in- 
dignant wrath,  when,  on  coming  to  herself,  and  pushing  back  the  long 
floating  curls  which  covered  her  face,  she  found  herself  in  a  manner 
half-naked,  and  in  the  hands  of  these  diabolical  old  women. 

A  cry  of  shame  and  offended  modesty,  mingled  with  terror,  burst 
from  the  lips  of  Adrienne.  Then,  in  order  to  save  herself  the  insult  of 
being  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  two  hags  who  surrounded  her,  she 
hastily  knocked  over  the  lamp,  which  had  been  placed  on  a  small  slab 
near  the  bed ;  the  lamp  fell  upon  the  floor,  and,  after  emitting  a  few 
sparks,  became  utterly  extinguished. 

Then,  wrapped  in  the  miserable  covering  of  the  bed,  and  sur- 
rounded by  perfect  darkness,  the  unhappy  girl  gave  vent  to  her 
wretchedness  in  hysteric  sobs  and  convulsive  moans.  The  keepers, 
putting  their  own  construction  on  the  violent  action  of  Adrienne,  at- 
tributed it  to  a  paroxysm  of  delirium. 

"  Oh!  what,  you  have  got  back  to  your  old  trick  of  breaking  and 
putting  out  lamps,  have  you  ?  "  cried  Thomas,  deep'y  incensed  at  having 
to  grope  her  way  about  in  the  dark.  "  Well,  I  warned  you  of  it ! 
Now  to-night  you  shall  wear  the  strait-waistcoat,  like  the  mad  woman 
over-head  I " 

"  So  she  shall !  "  returned  the  other.  "  But  hold  her  tight,  Tho- 
mas, while  I  go  and  get  a  light ;  and  then,  I  dare  say,  between  us,  we 
shall  manage  to  make  her  quiet." 

"  Make  haste,  then  !  for,  spite  of  her  seeming  gentleness,  it  is  my 
idea  she  is  as  raving  mad  as  she  can  be,  and  that  we  must  make  up 
our  minds  to  sit  up  all  night  with  her." 

****** 

What  a  sad  and  wretched  contrast  between  the  rising  and  the  set- 
ting of  that  day's  sun  !  In  the  morning,  Adrienne  had  risen  happy, 
smiling,  and  free  from  all  oppressive  interference  with  her  liberty ;  her 
eyes  had  opened  upon  all  the  rich  treasures  of  art  and  luxury,  and  her 
toilet  was  waited  upon  by  the  tender,  delicate,  and  attached  girls  she 
had  chosen  to  be  about  her  person.  In  her  generous  and  sportive 
humour  she  had  prepared  for  her  relation,  the  young  Indian  prince,  a 
magnificent  and  fairy-like  surprise.  She  had  also  taken  the  most  noble 
resolution  as  regarded  the  young  orphans  Dagobert  had  brought  from 
so  distant  a  land.  During  her  interview  with  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier,  she  had  shewn  herself,  by  turns,  proud,  yet  highly  sensitive ; 
melancholy,  yet  gay,  ironical,  and  grave ;  firm,  true  to  herself,  noble, 
and  courageous  :  and  her  only  reason  for  entering  into  this  accursed 
house  had  been  to  solicit  pardon  and  indulgence  for  an  honest  and 
industrious  artisan. 

And  night  found  the  same  Mademoiselle  Cardoville  delivered,  by 
base  treachery,  into  the  unworthy  hands  of  two  keepers  of  a  madhouse, 
with  her  delicate  limbs  imprisoned  in  one  of  those  horrible  accompani- 
ments to  a  lunatic  asylum — a  strait-waistcoat. 

Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  guarded  by  the  two  hags,  passed  a 

night  of  indescribable  wretchedness. 

*  •  *  *  *  * 

What  was  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  poor  girl  when,  about  nine 


THE     VISIT. 
P.  31. V 


THE  VISIT.  315 

o'clock  on  the  following  morning,  she  saw  Doctor  Baleinier,  wearing 
the  same  bland,  smiling,  paternal  air,  enter  her  miserable  apartment ! 

"  Well,  my  child,"  inquired  he,  in  a  voice  of  soft  and  affectionate 
inquiry,  "  how  have  you  passed  the  night  ?  " 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 


THE  VISIT. 

THE  keepers  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  yielding  to  her 
entreaties,  and  particularly  to  her  promise  to  be  obedient,  had  only 
kept  the  strait-waistcoat  upon  her  for  a  portion  of  the  night.  When 
daylight  came  she  had  arisen  and  dressed  herself,  unaided  and  unhin- 
dered. 

Adrienne  was  seated  on  the  edge  of  her  bed :  her  extreme  pallor, 
the  excessive  alteration  in  her  features,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  the 
deep  fire  of  fear,  and  the  convulsive  shudderings  of  her  frame  from 
time  to  time,  already  bore  testimony  to  the  fearful  consequences  of 
this  horrible  night  in  a  frame  so  easily,  delicately  organised,  and  ner- 
vously sensitive. 

At  the  sight  of  Doctor  Baleinier  (at  whose  signal  Gervase  and 
Thomas  left  the  room),  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  was  petrified. 
She  experienced  a  kind  of  vertigo  when  she  thought  of  the  audacity 
of  this  man,  who  dared  to  present  himself  before  her. 

But  when  the  physician  repeated,  in  his  bland  tone,  and  with  a 
voice  which  conveyed  feelings  of  the  deepest  interest, 

"  Well,  my  poor  dear  child  !  how  have  you  passed  the  night  ?  " 

Adrienne  lifted  her  hands  suddenly  to  her  burning  brow,  as  if  to 
ascertain  whether  she  was  waking  or  dreaming ;  then,  looking  at  the 
physician,  her  lips  half  opened,  but  they  shook  so  fearfully  that  she 
could  not  articulate  a  syllable. 

Anger,  indignation,  contempt,  and,  above  all,  that  resentment  so 
severely  painful,  which  confidence  basely  betrayed  excites  in  noble 
hearts,  so  utterly  bewildered  Adrienne,  that,  overcome  and  intensely 
suffering,  she  was  unable,  in  spite  of  every  effort,  to  break  silence. 

"  Come,  come,  I  see  what  it  is  I  "  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head, 
sorrowfully ;  "  you  are  very  angry  with  me,  arn't  you  ?  Well,  I 
expected  so,  my  dear  child  !  " 

Those  words,  uttered  with  unblushing  hypocrisy,  made  Adrienne 
almost  bound  from  her  seat.  She  rose,  her  pale  cheeks  flushed  to 
scarlet,  her  full  black  eye  glittering,  and  raising  her  lovely  counte- 
nance haughtily  ;  her  upper  lip  was  slightly  curled  by  a  smile  of  bitter 
disdain ;  and  then,  silent  but  indignant,  the  young  girl  passed  in  front 
of  M.  Baleinier,  who  was  still  sitting,  and  went  towards  the  door  with 
a  quick  and  firm  step.  It  was  the  door  in  which  was  the  small  wicket, 
which  was  closed  externally. 

Adrienne  turned  round  towards  the  doctor,  pointed  to  the  door, 
and  with  an  imperious  gesture  said  to  him  : 


316  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Open  this  door  !  " 

"  Conic,  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  !  "  said  the  physician  ; 
"calm  yourself — let  us  talk  like  good  friends — for  you  know  1  am 
your  friend."  And  then  calmly  took  a  pinch  of  snuft'. 

"  What,  sir  I  "  said  Adrienne,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  anger, 
"  am  I  not  to  leave  this  place  to-day  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  no — in  such  an  excited  state  I  If  you  knew  how  inflamed 
your  face  >vas — how  burning  your  eyes  seem  !  Why,  your  pulse  must 
be  at  eighty  a  minute  I  I  entreat  you,  my  dear  child,  not  to  increase 
all  these  very  bad  symptoms  by  such  extreme  agitation  !  " 

After  having  looked  steadfastly  at  the  doctor,  Adrienne  returned 
slowly  to  the  bed-side,  and  again  seated  herself. 

"That's  right  I  "  said  M.  Baleinier;  "be  calm — be  moderate — 
and,  I  say  again,  let  us  talk  like  good  friends." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  Adrienne,  in  a  brief,  restrained,  and 
utterly  calm  tone;  "let  us  talk  like  friends.  You  desire  to  make  me 
pass  for  a  mad  woman — is  not  that  so  ?  " 

"I  desire,  my  child,  that  one  day  you  shall  feel  for  me  as  much 
gratitude  as  to-day  you  entertain  aversion.  This  aversion  I  foresaw ; 
but,  painful  as  are  certain  duties,  one  must  resign  one's  self  to  all  the 
unpleasantness  of  carrying  them  out,"  said  Baleinier,  with  a  sigh,  and 
in  a  tone  so  natural  and  convincing  that  Adrieune  could  not  repress 
a  gesture  of  surprise,  followed  by  a  smile  of  bitterness. 

"  Really  !  indeed  I — all  this,  then,  is  for  my  good  ?  " 

"  It  is  really,  frankly,  my  dear  young  lady  !  Have  I  ever  had  any 
object  in  view  but  that  of  being  useful  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,  sir,  which  is  more  disgusting,  your  impudence  or 
your  base  treachery." 

"  Treachery  !  "  said  M.  Baleinier,  shrugging  his  shoulders  with  a 
gesture  of  pain  :"  treachery  !  Reflect,  my  poor  dear !  Can  you  think 
that,  if  I  were  not  acting  faithfully  and  conscientiously  in  your  interest, 
'I  should  return  this  morning  to  face  your  indignation,  which,  of 
course,  I  fully  expected  ?  I  am  the  head  physician  of  this  Maison  de 
Sante,  which  belongs  to  me.  I  have  two  pupils  here,  medical  men  like 
myself,  who  act  with  and  for  me,  and  I  might  have  transferred  to 
them  the  charge  and  care  of  you ;  but  no,  I  would  not  do  so  :  I  knew 
your  disposition,  your  character,  all  your  former  life  ;  and,  moreover, 
putting  aside  all  the  interest  I  bear  you,  I  could,  better  than  any  other 
person,  treat  you  properly." 

Adrienne  had  listened  to  M.  Baleinier  without  interrupting  him. 
She  now  gazed  at  him  steadfastly,  and  then  said, 

"  Monsieur,  how  much  are  you  to  be  paid  for  making  me  pass  for 
a  lunatic  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle ! "  exclaimed  M.  Baloinier,  wounded  in  spite  of  his 
sangfroid. 

"  I  am  rich,  as  you  know,"  replied  Adrienne,  with  supreme  disdain : 
"  I  will  double  the  sum  they  are  to  give  you.  Now  then,  sir,  in  the 
name  of  that — -friendship  which  you  referred  to,  at  least  let  me  be  the 
best  bidder  I " 

"  Your  keepers,  in  their  report  of  the  night's  proceedings,  have 
informed  me  that  you  made  them  a  similar  proposition,"  said  M. 
Balciuier,  resuming  his  usual  presence  of  mind. 


THE  VISIT.  317 

"Your  pardon,  sir! — I  offered  to  them  what  may  be  offered  to 
poor,  uneducated  women,  who  an;  forced  by  misfortune  to  accept  the 
painful  situations  they  occupy  ;  but  you,  sir,  a  man  of  the  world — a 
man  of  profound  knowledge — a  man  of  clear  understanding — are  very 
differently  situated  :  we  must  bid  very  much  higher.  There  is  treachery 
of  all  prices  ;  therefore  I  pray  you  not  to  found  your  refusal  on  the 
smallness  of  my  offers  to  these  poor  creatures.  Come,  tell  me  how 
much  must  it  be  ?  " 

"  The  keepers,  in  their  nightly  report,  have  also  referred  to  your 
threats,"  replied  M.  Baleinier,  very  calmly  :  "  have  you  none  of  these 
for  me  also  ?  Ah  !  my  dear  child,  take  my  advice,  and  let  us  at  onco 
lose  sight  and  mention  of  all  attempts  at  bribery  and  threats  of  ven- 
geance ;  let  us  rather  come  at  once  to  the  reality  of  our  position." 

"  What !  my  threats  are  vain,  are  they  ?  "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle 
de  Cardoville,  allowing  all  her  indignation,  so  utterly  restrained  until 
that  moment,  to  burst  forth  in  its  fullest  flow.  "What,  sir!  you 
believe  that  when  I  leave  this  place  (for  my  confinement  must  have 
an  end),  that  I  shall  not  loudly  proclaim  your  perfidious  treatment  I 
Ah !  you  believe  that  I  will  not  hold  up  to  full  exposure,  to  public, 
infamy,  all  your  infamous  complicity  with  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  ! — 
you  believe  that  I  will  be  silent  as  to  the  horrible  treatment  I  have 
experienced !  But,  sir,  mad  as  I  may  be,  I  know  that  there  are  laws, 
and  I  will  demand  a  full  and  open  reparation  for  all  I  have  endured, 
and  shame,  reproach,  and  chastisement  for  you  and  your  accomplices  I 
And,  mark  me,  I  beg!  Henceforth  there  will  be  hatred  —  war  to 
death  ;  and  I  will  use  on  my  part  all  my  strength,  understanding, 
and " 

"  My  dear  Mademoiselle  Adriennc,  allow  me  to  interrupt  you !" 
said  the  doctor,  who  was  perfectly  calm  and  affectionate :  "  nothing 
can  be  more  calculated  to  retard  your  cure  than  false  and  foolish 
hopes;  they  will  keep  you  in  a  state  of  deplorable  excitement.  It  is, 
therefore,  necessary  that  I  should  state  facts  clearly,  in  order  that  you 
may  more  thoroughly  see  and  appreciate  your  position.  First,  it  is 
impossible  that  you  can  quit  this  place ;  secondly,  you  cannot  have 
any  communication  outside  these  walls ;  thirdly,  no  persons  enter  here 
but  those  on  whom  I  can  fully  rely ;  fourthly,  I  am  completely  pro- 
tected from  your  threats  and  your  vengeance,  and  the  more  so  because 
all  circumstances  and  all  right  are  in  my  favour." 

"  All  right !  to  shut  me  up  here — 

"  That  would  not  have  been  resorted  to,  if  a  crowd  of  the  most 
serious  reasons  had  not  rendered  it  necessary." 

"  Oh  !  there  are  reasons?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  but  too  many." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  so  indulgent  as  to  enumerate  them?  " 

"Alas!  they  are  but  too  apparent;  and  if,  one  day,  you  should 
appeal  to  law,  as  you  have  but  just  now  threatened,  then,  to  our 
extreme  regret,  we  shall  be  compelled  to  adduce  them  :  the  more  than 
singular  eccentricity  of  your  mode  of  life — your  style  of  dressing  your 
waiting-women — .your  unbounded  expenditure  —  the  history  of  the 
Indian  prince,  to  whom  you  offer  a  royal  hospitality — your  unheard-of 
resolution,  at  eighteen  years  of  age,  to  prefer  leading  a  life  like  a 
bachelor — the  adventure  of  the  man  who  was  found  concealed  in  your 


318  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

sleeping  apartment  —  in  fact,  the  proces  verbal  of  your  yesterday's 
interrogatory  would  be  produced,  as  it  was  faithfully  taken  down  by  a 
person  engaged  for  that  especial  purpose." 

"  How ! — yesterday !  "  exclaimed  Adrienne,  with  equal  surprise 
and  indignation. 

"  Oh,  yes  :  in  order  to  be  perfectly  en  rtgle,  if,  at  some  future  day, 
you  should  misinterpret  the  interest  we  take  in  you,  we  had  your 
replies  taken  down  in  short-hand  by  a  man  who  was  placed  in  an 
adjoining  room  behind  the  falling  curtains;  and  really,  when  your 
mind  is  calmer,  and  you  will  one  day  read  over  this  interrogatory 
calmly,  you  will  not  be  astonished  at  the  resolution  we  were  compelled 
to  resort  to." 

"Continue,  sir,"  said  Adrienne,  with  disdain. 

"  The  facts,  as  I  allude  to  them,  being  thus  substantiated  and 
recognised,  you  must  see,  my  dear  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,  that  the 
responsibility  of  those  who  love  you  is  perfectly  protected  :  they  have 
tried,  as  they  were  bound  to,  to  cure  that  derangement  of  mind  which, 
it  is  true,  only  betrays  itself  by  singular  manias,  but  which  would 
seriouly  compromise  your  future  if  they  were  more  developed.  As 
far  as  my  opinion  goes,  a  gradual  cure  may  be  hoped  for,  thanks  to  a 
system  at  once  moral  and  physical,  the  first  step  of  which  is  to  remove 
you  from  the  fantastic  arrangements  which  were  around  you,  and 
which  excited  your  fancy  so  highly ;  whilst,  living  here  in  retreat,  in 
the  soothing  calm  of  a  simple  and  solitary  life,  my  constant  and  anxious, 
I  ought  to  say  paternal  care,  will,  by  degrees,  accomplish  a  perfect 
cure." 

"  So,  then,  sir,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  the  love  of  a 
perfect  independence,  generosity,  the  cultivation  of  the  beautiful, 
hatred  for  all  that  is  odious  and  base — these  are  the  maladies  of  which 
you  would  cure  me  !  I  fear  I  am  incurable,  for  it  is  a  long  while 
since  my  aunt  began  to  try  this  cure." 

"  It  may  be  that  we  do  not  succeed,  but  at  least  we  will  try.  You 
must  observe  that  there  are  a  mass  of  circumstances  sufficiently  serious 
to  authorise  our  determination,  which  was  come  to  at  a  family  con- 
sultation, and  that  completely  protects  me  from  your  menaces :  it  was 
to  this  I  meant  to  recur.  A  man  of  my  age  and  consideration  never 
acts  inconsiderately  under  these  circumstances.  So  now  you  will 
comprehend  what  I  said  to  you  just  now  :  in  a  word,  do  not  indulge 
a  hope  of  leaving  this  house  before  your  perfect  cure  has  been  effected, 
and  believe  that  I  am,  and  shall  be  always,  protected  from  your 
threats.  This  well  understood,  let  us  now  discourse  of  the  actual 
state  in  which  you  are,  with  all  the  interest  with  which  you  inspire 
me." 

"I  think,  sir,  that  if  I  am  a  lunatic,  you  speak  to  me  very 
rationally." 

"  You  a  lunatic  I — thanks  be  to  heaven,  my  poor  dear  child,  you 
are  not  so  yet ;  and  I  trust,  by  my  care,  you  never  will  be.  To 
prevent  such  a  sad  consequence,  it  was  necessary  to  check  in  time, 
and,  believe  me,  it  was  more  than  time.  You  look  at  me  with  an  air 
of  surprise — of  doubt.  Consider,  now,  what  interest  can  I  have  in 
talking  to  you  thus?  Is  it  to  indulge  your  aunt's  hatred?  Why 
should  I  do  that  ?  What  did  she  do  for  or  against  me  ?  I  do  not 


THE  VISIT.  319 

think  of  her  at  this  moment  less  or  more  than  I  did  yesterday.  Do  I 
use  new  language  to  you  ?  Have  I  not  often — yesterday — spoken  to 
you  of  the  excitement  so  dangerous  to  your  understanding,  of  your 
capricious  fancies  ?  I  have  used  a  stratagem  to  get  you  here — that's 
true !  I  seized  with  eagerness  the  opportunity  which  you  yourself 
offered  to  me — that  is  also  true,  poor  dear  child !  for  I  know  you 
never  would  have  come  here  willingly,  and  one  day  or  other  we  must 
have  sought  some  pretext  to  bring  you  hither  ;  and,  ma  foi,  I  confess 
I  did  say,  '  Her  interest  before  anything !  Do  your  duty,  happen  what 
may.' " 

As  M.  Baleinier  spoke,  Adrienne's  countenance,  until  then  alter- 
nately expressive  of  indignation  and  disdain,  assumed  a  singular 
mixture  of  anguish  and  horror. 

Hearing  this  man  express  himself  in  a  manner  apparently  so 
natural  and  sincere,  so  convincing,  and  really  so  just  and  so  natural, 
she  felt  more  fearful  than  ever.  A  base  treachery,  clothed  in  such  a 
guise,  frightened  her  a  hundred  times  more  than  the  hatred  frankly 
avowed  by  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier.  She  found,  indeed,  that  auda- 
cious hypocrisy  so  monstrous,  that  she  thought  it  actually  impossible. 

Adrienne  had  so  little  of  the  art  of  concealing  her  resentment, 
that  the  physician,  who  was  a  skilful  and  profound  physiognomist,  per- 
ceived the  impression  he  had  made. 

"  Come,"  thought  he,  "  this  is  a  great  step — to  disdain  and  anger, 
fright  has  succeeded.  Doubt  is  not  far  off.  I  shall  not  leave  her 
without  her  saying,  '  Return  soon,  my  good  M.  Baleinier  !'  " 

The  physician  replied,  in  a  voice  so  sad  and  full  of  emotion,  that  it 
appeared  to  come  from  the  very  bottom  of  his  heart, 

"  I  see,  I  see,  you  are  still  distrustful  of  me — what  I  tell  you  is  but 
a  lie,  cheat,  deceit,  hypocrisy,  hatred,  is  it  not  ?  I  hate  you  I  and 
wherefore  ?  Oh  I  what  have  you  done  to  me,  or  rather — you  will, 
perhaps,  receive  this  as  a  more  forcible  reason  from  a  man  like  me," 
added  M.  Baleinier,  with  bitterness, — "or  rather,  what  interest  have  I 
to  hate  you  ?  What,  you  !  you  who  are  only  in  your  present  state 
in  consequence  of  the  exaggeration  of  your  most  generous  instincts — 
you,  who  only  have  what  may  be  termed  the  malady  of  your  qualities 
— you  can  coolly,  resolutely,  accuse  an  honest  man,  who  has  never, 
hitherto,  given  you  anything  but  proofs  of  his  affection  !  to  accuse 
him  of  the.  most  cowardly,  black,  and  abominable  crime,  with  which 
manhood  can  be  stained !  Yes,  I  say  crime ;  because  the  atrocious 
treason  of  which  you  accuse  me  merits  no  other  name.  Ah  !  my  poor 
child,  it  is  bad,  very  bad,  and  I  see  that  an  independendent  mind  can 
display  as  much  injustice  and  intolerance  as  narrower  dispositions ; 
that  does  not  rouse  me,  but  it  pains  me  deeply.  Yes,  I  assure  you 
deeply — deeply." 

And  the  doctor  passed  his  hands  over  his  moistened  eyes. 

We  cannot  pretend  to  describe  the  accent,  the  look,  the  counte- 
nance, the  attitude,  of  M.  Baleinier,  as  he  thus  expressed  himself. 

The  most  skilful  and  practised  advocate,  the  first  comedian  in  the 
world,  could  not  have  played  his  part  better  than  the  doctor  enacted 
the  scene :  indeed  no  person  could  have  performed  it  so  well,  for  M. 
Baleinier,  carried  away  by  the  situation  in  spite  of  himself,  was  him- 
self halt-convinced  of  what  lie  said. 


320  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

In  a  word,  he  felt  all  the  horror  of  his  perfidy,  but  he  knew  also 
that  Adriennc  could  not  credit  it ;  for  it  is  those  plotting*  which  are  so 
horrible,  that  sincere  hearts  can  never  give  their  belief  to  as  possible  ; 
and,  then,  if  an  elevated  mind  will  look  into  the  abyss  of  evil,  beyond 
a  certain  depth,  it  is  seized  with  a  vertigo,  and  can  no  longer  di.stiiigui.sh 
anything. 

And  then,  too,  even  the  most  evil-disposed  have  a  day,  an  hour,  a 
moment,  in  which  what  God  has  put  of  good  into  the  heart  of  every 
creature  will  be  elevated  in  spite  of  themselves. 

Adrienne  was  too  interesting,  she  was  in  a  position  too  cruel,  for 
the  doctor  not  to  feel  in  his  heart  some  pity  for  the  unfortunate  girl : 
the  obligation  he  had  long  been  under  to  appear  to  shew  sympathy  for 
her,  the  full  confidence  which  the  young  girl  had  in  him,  had  become 
for  this  man  pleasant  and  cherished  habits — but  sympathy  and  habits 
must  yield  before  implacable  necessity. 

And  so  did  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  act  by  the  mother  he  idolized ; 
unheeding  even  the  dying  breath  which  called  him  to  her  bedside,  that 
she  might  look  on  his  face  yet  once  again — spite  of  his  passionate 
adoration  of  this  parent,  he  departed  at  the  bidding  of  his  Order,  and 
the  expiring  mother  was  forgotten.  How,  then,  after  so  stern  an 
example  of  the  trampling  under  foot  of  even  the  most  sacred  and  holy 
duties,  could  it  be  expected  that  M.  Baleinier  would  hesitate  to 
sacrifice  Adrienne  ?  'Tis  true  the  members  of  the  Order  to  which  he 
belonged  were  bound  to  him,  but  he  was  infinitely  more  their  slave 
than  they  could  ever  be  his,  for  a  long  partnership  in  crimes  creates 
indissoluble  and  terrible  bonds. 

At  the  moment  when  M.  Baleinier  had  finished  speaking  so 
warmly  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  the  outer  plank  of  the  wicket 
of  the  door  glided  noiselessly  back  into  its  groove,  and  two  eager 
eyes  attentively  surveyed  both  the  chamber  and  all  that  was  passing 
in  it. 

M.  Baleinier,  however,  observed  not  the  action,  or  the  opening  of 
the  wicket. 

Adrienne  oould  not  detach  her  gaze  from  the  eyes  of  the  doctor, 
which  appeared  to  possess  a  sort  of  fascination  over  her.  Silent, 
oppressed,  and  under  the  influence  of  a  vague  and  indistinct  terror, 
she  felt  herself  incapable  of  penetrating  the  dark  recesses  of  such  a 
mind  as  the  doctor's ;  yet  affected,  in  spite  of  herself,  by  the  half  real, 
half  feigned  sincerity  of  his  words,  as  well  as  the  touching  sympathy 
of  the  voice  in  which  he  spoke,  for  a  moment  she  doubted  his  being 
really  the  enemy  she  had  fancied. 

For  the  first  time  the  idea  suggested  itself  to  her  that,  although  M. 
Baleinier  had  committed  a  fearful  error,  yet  that  his  motives  in  acting 
as  he  had  done  were  well-intentioned. 

Added  to  this,  the  sufferings  of  the  past  night,  the  dangers  of  her 
present  situation,  acting  upon  her  feverish  and  excitable  temperament, 
all  conspired  to  create  a  degree  of  uneasy  and  anxious  thought  in  the 
mind  of  the  poor  girl,  who  kept  \vatching  every  turn  and  expression  of 
the  doctor's  face  with  increasing  surprise  and  wonder  ;  then,  making  a 
violent  effort  to  hinder  herself  from  yielding  to  a  weakness  whose 
fearful  consequences  she  vaguely  perceived,  she  exclaimed, 

"  No,  no,  monsieur  !  I  neither  can  nor  ought  to  credit  what  you  say  ; 


DAGOBERT    AND    AOIUCOLA. 
P  Ml. 


Hall       l-i-l>ni.ir> 


THE  VISIT.  321 

you  have  too  much  skill,  too  great  experience,  to  be  capable  of  com- 
mitting such  a  mistake  !" 

"  A  mistake  !"  said  M.  Balcinier,  in  a  grave  and  mournful  voice ; 
"  a  mistake  !  Allow  me,  in  the  name  of  that  skill  and  experience  for 
which  you  give  me  credit,  to  say  a  few  words.  Listen  to  me,  my 
dear  young  lady,  for  a  short  time,  and  then  1  need  only  appeal  to 
yourself." 

"  To  me !"  replied  Adrienne,  almost  speechless  with  surprise. 

"  Why,  would  you  seek  to  persuade  me  that "  Then  interrupting 

herself  she  added,  with  a  burst  of  convulsive  laughter,  "  Certainly  it 
needed  only  that  I  should  pronounce  myself  mad  to  complete  your 
triumph  ;  that  I  should  confess  my  place  is  in  a  madhouse,  and  thank 
you  for  having  put  me  there." 

"  I  am  certainly  entitled  to  your  thanks,  as  I  told  you  at  the  com- 
mencement of  this  conversation  :  listen  to  me,  then  !  My  words  may 
seem  cruel,  for  some  wounds  cannot  be  cured  without  the  aid  of  the 
knife  or  the  caustic.  Let  me  beseech  of  you,  my  dear  child,  to  reflect 
a  little ;  east  an  impartial  retrospect  over  your  past  life ;  recall  even 
your  thoughts,  and  you  wiH  be  afraid  to  look  back  upon  them. 
Remember  those  periods  of  enthusiastic  flightiness,  in  which  you  have 
asserted  that  you  felt  as  though  you  did  not  belong  to  this  earth ;  and 
above  all,  at  this  moment,  while  your  reason  is  still  equal  to  the  task, 
compare  your  life  with  that  of  other  young  females  of  your  age.  Can 
you  tell  me  of  one  that  has  lived  as  you  have  done?  who  thinks  like 
you  ?  unless,  indeed,  you  fancied  yourself  so  superior  to  all  others  of 
your  sex,  that  you  would  fain  arrogate  to  yourself  the  right  of  leading 
a  life  entirely  at  variance  with  the  notions,  habits,  and  customs  of  the 
world  you  belong  to." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well,"  said  Adrienne,  regarding  the  doctor 
with  increasing  terror,  "  that  I  have  never  been  actuated  by  so  silly  a 
pride." 

"  Then,  how,  my  poor  child,  are  we  to  account  for  your  strange 
and  inexplicable  manner  of  living?  Could  you  ever,  for  one  instant, 
persuade  even  yourself  that  it  \vas  reconcilable  with  common  sense  ? 
Ah,  my  child,  beware  !  you  have  at  present  merely  indulged  in  charm- 
ing originalities,  poetical  fancies,  vague  yet  delicious  dreams — but  the 
bias  they  give  is  as  fatal  as  irresistible.  Oh,  beware  !  beware !  the 
strong,  healthful  part  of  your  graceful  and  imaginative  mind,  having 
at  present  the  ascendant  over  your  weaker  faculties,  merely  permits 
your  actions  to  wear  the  form  of  whimsical  eccentricities ;  but  you 
know  not — you  cannot  imagine  with  what  fearful  certainty,  what  over- 
powering violence,  the  irrational  part  of  your  brain  will  develope 
itself,  and,  at  a  given  moment,  stifle  the  more  intellectual  portion. 
Then  yours  will  be  no  longer  mere  graceful  flights  of  fancy,  or  elegant 
caprices ;  they  will  become  the  wild  insane  doings  of  a  wandering  mind, 
the  hideous  calculations  of  a  lunatic  I" 

"  Alas,  you  fill  me  with  terror !''  interrupted  the  unhappy  girl, 
pressing  her  trembling  hands  tightly  across  her  burning  forehead. 

"  Then,"  continued  M.  Baleinier,  in  an  agitated  tone,  "  then  the 
last  glimmer  of  sense  becomes  extinguished,  and  madness — yes,  the 
dreadful  word  must  be  spoken — madness  seizes  the  brain,  and  bursts 

21  Y 


322  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

forth  in  all  the  wild,  furious  actions,  of  a  creature  from  whom  the 
guiding  ray  of  reason  has  for  ever  fled." 

"  Like  the  unhappy  female  up  there,"  murmured  Adrienne,  as, 
with  fixed,  feverish  eye,  she  gazed  at  the  ceiling,  pointing  to  it  with 
her  finger. 

"  Occasionally,"  resumed  the  doctor,  terrified  at  the  too  evident 
effect  of  his  words  on  the  poor  victim,  yet  yielding,  in  spite  of  his 
better  feelings,  to  the  inexorable  fatality  of  the  situation  in  which  he 
was  placed,  "  occasionally,  madness  assumes  the  form  of  stupidity  and 
brutality,  leaving  the  unhappy  being  afflicted  by  it  only  the  outward 
resemblance  to  a  human  being ;  with  merely  the  instincts  of  an  animal 
— eating  voraciously,  and  keeping  up  the  same  incessant  motion  in  the 
cell  in  which  they  are  necessarily  confined,  and  in  that  manner  to  pass 
the  whole  of  their  lives — all  of  it — for  not  a  shadow  of  hope  remains." 

"  Like  the  female  out  there,"  cried  Adrienne,  becoming  more  and 
more  excited  and  wild  in  her  looks,  as  she  extended  her  arm  towards 
that  part  of  the  opposite  building  which  could  be  distinctly  seen  through 
the  window  of  her  chamber. 

"  Alas,  yes  !"  replied  M.  Baleinier.  "  Like  you,  unfortunate  child, 
these  females  were  young,  beautiful,  and  clever ;  but,  like  you,  they  had 
within  them  the  fearful  germ  of  insanity,  which,  not  being  destroyed  in 
time,  has  increased  and  increased,  until,  at  length,  it  has  entirely  over- 
grown their  reason  and  stifled  their  intellect." 

"  In  mercy !"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  her  brain 
bewildered  with  intense  horror, "  oh !  in  mercy  do  not  tell  me  such  dread- 
ful things  I  Once  again,  I  tell  you,  you  frighten  me — indeed,  indeed  you 
do  !  Oh,  take  me  away  !  take  me  away,  I  say  !  I  cannot — I  dare  not 
stay  here :  for  God's  sake  remove  me  from  the  place  1  "  cried  she,  in 
tones  of  heart-wringing  agony,  "  or  I  shall  finish  by  becoming  as  mad 
as  others  are." 

Then,  struggling  with  the  intense  horror  which  shook  her  frame, 
spite  of  her  every  attempt  to  overcome  it,  she  said, 

"  But,  no  1  do  not  hope  it — I  shall  not  become  mad.  I  am  in  full 
possession  of  my  senses — ay,  as  much  so  as  you  are :  can  you,  then, 
expect  to  impose  on  me  with  such  pictures  as  you  have  drawn  ?  True, 
I  have  not  lived  as  others  have  done,  neither  have  I  thought  with 
them.  True,  also,  I  have  felt  shocked  at  that  which  appeared  to  give 
no  offence  to  other  persons  ;  but  what  does  all  that  prove  ?  simply  that 
my  tastes,  disposition,  and  character,  were  dissimilar  to  theirs.  Have 
I  exhibited  a  cold  or  wicked  heart  ?  have  I  been  selfish  or  unmindful 
of  others  ?  I  am  aware  that  my  ideas  are  full  of  whim  and  caprice — I 
confess  it.  I  know  my  imagination  is  full  of  dreams  and  fancies  ;  but 
you  know  well,  M.  Baleinier,  their  aim  was  ever  generous  and 
elevated."  And  here  the  voice  of  Adrienne  trembled,  and  sunk  almost 
into  a  supplicating  tone,  while  tears  coursed  rapidly  down  her  pale 
cheeks.  "  Never  have  I,  to  my  knowledge,  committed  one  base 
or  unworthy  action  ;  and  if  I  have  done  wrong,  it  has  ever  been  from 
excess  of  generosity.  Surely  a  wish  to  heap  pleasure  and  happiness 
on  all  around  us  cannot  be  construed  into  madness  ?  Besides,  we  can 
feel  and  know  whether  we  are  in  our  right  mind  or  not ;  and  I  am 
perfectly  assured,  whatever  I  may  be  driven  to,  I  am  not  yet  mad. 


THE  VISIT.  323 

Still,  Heaven  help  me  !  I  dread — I  know  not  what — the  fearful  things 
j'ou  tell  me  of  the  two  females  I  have  seen  and  heard  this  night,  make 
me — you  ought  to  understand  these  dreadful  circumstances  better  than 
I  do  ;  besides,"  added  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  relapsing  into  the 
most  perfect  despair,  and  elevating  her  voice  into  the  accents  of  dis- 
tracting grief,  "  something  ought  to  be  done  to  avert  these  horrible 
consequences.  Why,  why,  if  you  really  regarded  me,  have  you 
suffered  my  malady  to  remain  thus  long  unobserved  ?  could  you  not 
sooner  have  taken  pity  on  me  ?  Alas,  alas  !  the  most  cruel  part  of  my 
misery  consists  in  my  not  being  able  to  place  confidence  in  your  words 
—you  are  possibly  only  laying  some  snare  to  entrap  me  afresh :  but, 
no,  no  !  that  cannot  be  :  you  weep  I  Nay,  then,  it  must  be  true  since 
you  attest  it  with  your  tears !" 

As  Adrienne  finished  her  touching  appeal,  she  earnestly  watched 
the  countenance  of  M.  Baleinier,  who,  spite  of  his  cold-hearted  selfish- 
ness, could  not  restrain  his  tears  at  the  sight  of  the  nameless  tortures 
the  poor  girl  underwent. 

"  Yes,  yes,  your  warm  tears  fall  on  my  hand ;  then  I  dare  not 
disbelieve  further.  God  of  mercy,  aid  and  support  me  !  But  you  can 
do  something  for  me,  can  you  not?  Oh,  I  will  be  obedient  to  all  you 
tell  me.  I  will  do  every  thing  you  wish — every  thing — that  I  may  be 
preserved  from  the  fate  of  the  women,  the  unfortunate  creatures,  I 
heard  and  saw  last  night.  What  if  it  should  be  too  late  ?  But,  no,  no  I 
there  is  yet  time  ;  is  there  not,  my  good,  my  kind  M.  Baleinier  ?  Oh, 
pardon,  I  beseech  you,  all  my  ungrateful  and  unthinking  speeches !  I 
knew  not,  when  you  first  came  in — I — you  understand — I — was 
not " 

And  as  these  broken  exclamations,  mingled  with  heartbreaking 
sobs,  died  away,  Adrienne  looked  for  some  moments  wildly  around  the 
room  with  a  sort  of  feverish  eagerness,  then  sunk  perfectly  exhausted 
into  a  profound  silence,  which  lasted  some  time,  while  M.  Baleinier's 
tears  unconsciously  bore  testimony  to  the  sympathy  he  could  not  help 
feeling  for  the  unhappy  girl. 

Adrienne  had  sat  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  all  at  once  she 
raised  her  head,  her  feature*  were  calmer,  though  still  exhibiting  a 
degree  of  nervous  tremor. 

"  M.  Baleinier,"  said  she,  with  touching  dignity,  "I  know  not 
what  I  may  have  been  saying.  My  grief,  I  fear,  had  temporarily 
affected  my  brain,  but  I  am  now  myself  again.  Listen  to  me  !  I  am 
in  your  power,  I  know  it ;  and  I  am  equally  aware  no  human  power 
can  deliver  me  from  it.  Am  I  to  look  upon  you  as  an  implacable 
onemy,  or  a  sincere  friend? — I  cannot  decide.  And  do  you  really  and 
truly  believe  that  what  is  merely  fiiglitincss  of  character  in  me  at 
present  may  hereafter  degenerate  into  madness?  or  are  you  an 
accomplice  in  some  diabolical  scheme  against  me?  You  alone  can 
answer  that  question.  Spite  of  my  resolution  and  courage,  I  confess 
myself  conquered.  Whatever  it  is  that  is  required  of  me — understand 
me  well — whatever  may  be  sought  for,  by  those  who  are  thus  cruelly 
treating  me,  I  accede  to  it,  before  I  even  know  what  I  am  promising ; 
to  that  I  pledge  my  word,  and  you  well  know  how  faithfully  I  always 
adhere  to  it.  There  cannot  be,  then,  any  further  motive  for  detaining 
me  here.  If,  ou  the  contrary,  you  sincerely  believe  my  reason  is  in 


324  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

danger,  and  I  will  confess  that  your  words  have  awakened  within  me 
a  fearful,  though  indistinct  apprehension  of  some  awful  catastrophe, 
then  tell  me  so,  calmly  and  dispassionately,  and  I  will  believe  you.  I 
am  wholly  at  your  mercy ;  alone,  friendless,  and  unassisted  by  any 
counsel  but  my  own,  I  promise  to  trust  implicitly,  blindly  in  you. 
But  do  I  address  a  friend  or  foe  ?  am  I  supplicating  my  deliverer  and 
preserver,  or  my  destroyer  and  murderer  ?  I  have  no  power  to 
decide :  but  I  say  this  much,  I  offer  you  my  life,  my  future  prospects; 
take  cither,  or  both,  I  have  no  longer  strength  to  dispute  them  with 
you." 

These  affecting  words,  pronounced  with  the  most  touching  resign- 
ation and  despairing  confidence,  gave  the  last  blow  to  the  vacillations 
of  M.  Baleinier's  mind.  Already  cruelly  moved  by  this  scene,  he 
wished,  without  reflecting  on  the  consequences  which  might  arise  from 
so  doing,  to  tranquillise  Adrienne's  mind  as  to  the  terrible  and 
unfounded  apprehensions  he  had  excited  within  her ;  and  these  sen- 
timents of  repentance  and  benevolence  were  impressed,  in  legible 
characters,  on  the  features  of  Doctor  Baleinier.  They  were  only  too 
legible. 

At  the  instant  that  he  stooped  towards  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  her  hand,  a  sharp,  shrill  voice  was  heard 
behind  the  wicket,  pronouncing  merely  the  words, 

"  Doctor  Baleinier !  " 

"  Rodin !  "  murmured  the  doctor,  much  alarmed ; — "  then  he  has 
been  watching  me  I  " 

"  Who  was  it  called  you?  "  inquired  the  poor  girl  of  M.  Baleinier. 

"  A  person  I  desired  to  meet  me  here  this  morning,  for  the  purpose 
of  accompanying  him  to  the  convent  of  Sainte  Marie,  which  is  close 
by,"  said  the  doctor,  in  much  alarm  and  uneasiness. 

"  And  what  is  your  reply  to  my  question  ?  "  asked  Adrienne,  in  a 
state  of  agonising  suspense. 

After  a  short  interval  of  most  solemn  silence,  during  which  the 
doctor's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  wicket,  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep 
emotion, 

"  I  am — what  I  have  always  been — a  friend,  incapable  of  deceiving 
you." 

Poor  Adrienne's  features  assumed  the  paleness  of  death.  Then, 
extending  her  hand  to  M.  Baleinier,  she  said,  in  a  voice  she  vainly 
sought  to  render  calm, 

"  Thanks  I  I  shall  have  the  necessary  courage.  Will  it  last  verjr 
long  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  a  month.  Solitude — reflection — a  suitable  regimen — 
ray  devoted  attention  I  Make  yourself  perfectly  easy :  every  thing 
that  is  consistent  with  your  condition  will  be  allowed  you,  and  every 
attention  shall  be  shewn  to  your  wishes.  If  you  disapprove  of  this 
chamber,  another  shall  be  provided  for  you." 

"No!"  replied  Adrienne,  oppressed  by  a  heavy  and  profound 
grief;  "  no !  it  matters  little  where  I  am :  one  apartment  is  as  good  as 
another." 

"  Come,  come,  take  courage  I  all  is  not  lost  yet !  " 

"  Perhaps  you  flatter  me,"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  gloomy  smile  ; 
and  then  added, 


PRESENTIMENTS.  325 

"  Farewell,  then,  for  the  present,  my  dear  M.  Baleinier !  And  now 
my  only  hope  is  in  you  !  " 

So  saying,  her  head  dropped  on  her  breast,  her  hands  fell  listlessly 
in  her  lap,  and  she  remained  sitting  on  the  side  of  her  bed — pale, 
motionless,  and  perfectly  crushed. 

"  Mad !  "  cried  she,  as  M.  Baleinier  disappeared  ;  "perhaps  mad !  " 
***** 

We  have  permitted  ourselves  to  give  this  episode  at  some  length, 
because  it  is  in  reality  more  of  the  romance  of  real  life  than  the 
reader  may  imagine.  Many  a  time  has  conflicting  interests,  motives 
of  revenge,  or  perfidious  machinations,  induced  those  concerned  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  imprudent  facility  witli  which  the  keepers  of 
houses  for  the  reception  of  insane  persons  will  receive  any  individual 
committed  to  their  charge  by  any  friend  or  relative,  however  false  or 
treacherous. 

We  shall  hereafter  give  our  opinion  as  to  the  necessity  of  establish- 
ing some  interference  or  superintendence,  on  the  part  of  the  civil 
authorities,  who  might  arrange  a  method  of  periodically  visiting  and 
examining  into  the  conduct  of  houses  destined  for  the  reception  of 
insane  persons,  as  well  as  other  institutions  not  less  important,  though 
even  still  more  overlooked  by  judicial  watchfulness.  We  shall  revert 
to  this  subject  again. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

PRESENTIMENTS. 

WHILE  the  facts  just  narrated  were  passing  within  the  Maison  de 
Sante  belonging  to  Doctor  Baleinier,  other  events  were  going  on 
about  the  same  period  of  time  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  under  the 
humble  roof  of  Francoise  Baudoin. 

Seven  o'clock  had  struck  from  the  church  of  Saint  Merry ;  the 
morning  was  dark  and  lowering,  and  the  sleet  and  hail  pattered  against 
the  casement  of  Francoise's  gloomy  chamber. 

Ignorant  of  the  arrest  of  her  son,  the  poor  woman  had  expected 
him  in  the  evening,  as  usual ;  then,  a  prey  to  a  thousand  fears,  she 
had  kept  anxious  watch  till  morning  was  far  advanced,  when,  worn  out 
with  fatigue,  weariness,  and  anxiety,  she  threw  herself  on  her  mattrass 
beside  the  bed  of  Rose  and  Blanche. 

With  the  first  dawn  of  day  the  unhappy  mother  arose  and  ascended 
to  the  attic  in  which  Agricola  slept,  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  he 
might  have  returned  during  her  short  slumber. 

The  sisters  also  arose,  and,  having  performed  their  simple  toilet, 
found  themselves  alone  in  the  cold,  cheerless  apartment. 

Kill-joy,  who  had  been  left  behind  by  Dagobert,  was  stretched 
before  the  now  cold  stove,  while,  resting  his  sagacious  nose  between 
his  two  fore-paws,  he  never  took  his  gaze  off  the  gentle  beings  he 
seemed  to  understand  he  was  exclusively  left  in  charge  of. 


326  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

The  orphans,  who  had  slept  but  little  during  the  night,  had  been 
witness  to  the  agitation  and  wretchedness  the  wife  of  Dagobert  had 
endured :  sometimes  they  observed  her  pacing  the  little  chamber,  and 
talking  to  herself;  then  hurrying  at  the  least  sound  to  the  staircase  to 
listen ;  and  when  returning  from  her  fruitless  errand  she  would  place 
herself  on  her  knees  before  a  crucifix  placed  in  a  corner  of  the  room, 
the  orphans  doubted  not  but  that,  while  the  tender  mother  prayed  for 
her  son,  she  likewise  besought  Heaven  in  their  favour,  for  the  state 
of  their  minds  terrified  the  excellent  woman. 

After  Dagobert's  precipitate  departure  for  Chartres,  Francoise, 
having  assisted  Rose  and  Blanche  with  their  toilet,  spoke  of  their 
morning  prayers,  offering  to  join  with  them ;  but,  to  her  unutterable 
surprise,  they  innocently  assured  her  they  knew  no  other  form  of 
prayer  than  what  consisted  in  invoking  their  mother's  blessing  from 
the  heaven  they  were  told  she  dwelt  in.  And  when  the  good  woman, 
recovering  from  her  first  shock,  questioned  them  as  to  their  knowledge 
of  the  catechism,  confirmation,  or  communion,  they  opened  their  large 
blue  eyes  with  profound  astonishment,  unable  to  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  all  she  said. 

Acting  from  the  dictates  of  her  own  simple  religious  belief,  the 
wife  of  Dagobert  believed  the  souls  of  the  orphans  to  be  in  a  more 
perilous  state,  as,  having  to  the  best  of  her  ability  explained  to  them 
the  meaning  of  baptism,  and  described  its  form  of  administration,  she 
inquired  whether  they  had  ever  been  admitted  into  the  bosom  of  the 
church,  and  received  for  answer  that,  to  the  best  of  their  knowledge, 
no  such  rite  could  have  been  performed,  inasmuch  as  neither  priest  nor 
church  were  to  be  found  in  the  part  of  Siberia  in  which  they  had  been 
born  during  their  mother's  exile. 

When  the  strong  religious  bias  of  Francoise's  mind  is  borne  in 
view,  it  will  easily  be  imagined  with  what  intense  horror  she  looked 
upon  these  young  creatures,  whom  she  already  tenderly  loved  for  their 
sweetness  and  gentleness  of  character,  and  who  now  appeared  in  her 
eyes  like  poor  heathens  innocently  devoted  to  eternal  damnation. 
Unable  to  restrain  her  tears  or  conceal  her  terrors,  she  clasped  them 
tenderly  in  her  arms,  assuring  them  her  first  care  should  be  to  take  the 
necessary  steps  to  secure  them  safety  from  the  perdition  which  awaited 
them,  and  bitterly  lamenting  that  it  should  not  have  occurred  to 
Dagobert  to  have  them  baptized  as  they  travelled  through  so  many 
different  towns ;  and  it  must  be  candidly  admitted  that  so  pious  a 
purpose  had  never  once  entered  the  head  of  the  ci-devant  horse- 
soldier. 

When  Francoise  had  quitted  the  sisters  during  the  day,  in  order 
to  perform  her  sundry  duties,  she  durst  not  take  them  with  her  to 
church ;  their  complete  ignorance  of  every  thing  connected  with  reli- 
gion rendering  their  presence  in  the  sacred  building,  if  not  improper, 
at  least  useless :  but  in  her  prayers  Francoise  most  fervently  besought 
the  mercy  of  Heaven  in  favour  of  two  poor  benighted  young  creatures 
who  knew  not  the  perilous  state  of  their  own  darkened  souls. 

Rose  and  Blanche  then  were  left  alone  in  the  chamber,  during  the 
absence  of  Dagobert's  wife.  They  were  still  in  their  deep  mourning, 
while  their  lovely  countenances  were  pensive,  if  not  sad.  Although 
they  had,  from  their  cradle,  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  hardships,  yet 


PRESENTIMENTS.  327 

from  the  moment  of  their  arrival  in  the  Rue  Brise-Miche  their  young 
imaginations  had  been  deeply  struek  with  the  difference  which  existed 
between  the  humble  abode  they  were  in  and  the  marvels  their  youthful 
fancies  had  pictured  awaited  them  in  Paris,  that  golden  city  of  their 
dreams. 

Hut  soon  this  astonishment,  so  easily  imagined,  gave  place  to 
thoughts  of  considerable  gravity,  for  young  persons  like  themselves, 
and  the  aspeet  of  poverty  so  nobly  sustained,  and  toil  so  industriously 
pursued,  made  the  young  orphans  reflect  deeply,  not  merely  as 
children,  but  as  young  females  endowed  with  an  accurate  and  obser- 
vant mind,  a  just  and  sympathising  spirit,  a  noble,  generous  heart,  and 
dispositions  at  once  delicate,  yet  energetic  and  courageous.  During 
the  last  twenty-four  hours  they  had  seen  and  reflected  much. 

"  Sister,"  said  Rose  to  Blanche,  when  Francoise  had  quitted  the 
chamber,  "  Dagobert's  poor  wife  is  very  uneasy :  did  you  observe- 
how  miserable  she  was  all  night?  how  she  wept,  and  then  prayed?  " 

"  I  was  as  much  grieved  as  yourself,  dear  sister,  at  the  sight  of 
her  grief;  and  I  tried  even  to  guess  what  could  have  occasioned  it.  I 
think  I  know  what  gave  her  such  pain.  Most  likely  it  is  we  who  are 
the  cause  of  her  distress." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  You  mean,  because  we  do  not  know 
any  prayers,  and  have  never  been  baptized?" 

"  It  did,  indeed,  seem  to  grieve  her  sorely  to  find  us  so  ignorant, 
and  I  was  much  affected  by  it ;  because  it  proved  how  tenderly  she 
loved  us.  But  do  you  know,  I  could  not  understand  the  terrible  danger 
she  said  we  were  in." 

"  No  more  could  I,  my  dear  sister.  We  try  to  do  nothing  which 
could  displease  our  dear  mother,  since  she  sees  and  knows  all  our 
actions." 

"  And  we  love  every  one  who  loves  us  ;  we  hate  nobody,  and  we 
submit  ourselves  to  whatever  happens  to  us.  How,  then,  can  we  be 
so  very  wicked  ?" 

"  I  know  not ;  only,  perhaps,  we  might  do  wrong  things  without 
intending  it." 

"  We,  dear  sister !     How  could  we  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  ;  and  that  is  what  I  was  going  to  say  when  I  re- 
marked, that  I  feared  it  was  us  who  occasioned  the  uneasiness  expe- 
rienced by  Dagobert's  wife." 

"  Oh  !  pray  tell  me  then." 

"  Listen,  dear  sister !  Yesterday,  Madame  Francoise  wished  to 
work  at  those  coarse  cloth  bags  which  are  on  the  table  there " 

"  I  recollect :  and  at  the  end  of  half-an-hour  she  told  us,  sorrow- 
fully, that  she  must  leave  off;  that  she  could  not  see  well  enough  even 
for  that  coarse  work,  and  that  her  eyesight  was  entirely  ruined." 

"  So  you  perceive  she  can  no  longer  work  for  her  own  livelihood." 

"  No :  but  then  it  is  her  son  • " 

"  M.  Agricola,  who  maintains  her.  Oh,  how  good  he  seems !  He 
looks  so  cheerful,  and  frank,  and  happy  to  devote  himself  to  his 
mother  !  He  is  indeed  worthy  of  being  brother  to  our  angel  Gabriel." 

"  You  will  see  directly  why  I  mentioned  to  you  about  M.  Agricola's 
maintaining  his  mother  by  his  labour.  Our  good  old  Dagobert  told 


328  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

me,  that  when  we  arrived  here  he  had  only  a  few  pieces  of  money 
remaining." 

"  True." 

"  So  that  you  see,  his  wife  being  thus  unable  to  work,  what  could 
an  old  soldier  like  him  do  for  their  subsistence  ?  " 

"  You  are  right.  Dagobert  can  do  nothing  but  love  us,  and  watch 
over  us  like  his  own  children." 

"  Thus,  then,  don't  you  perceive  that  M.  Agricola  must  support 
his  father  as  well  as  his  mother?  for  Gabriel  is  a  poor  priest,  who,  pos- 
sessing nothing,  has  no  means  of  aiding  the  family  which  brought  him 
up.  The  care  and  burthen  of  the  whole  family  then  falls  on  M. 
Agricola." 

"  To  be  sure  it  does !  But  then,  you  know,  it  is  his  duty  to  work 
for,  and  toil  hard  to  prevent  his  father  and  mother  from  wanting ;  and 
he  does  it  with  pleasure." 

"  Yes,  sister ;  but  it  is  not  his  duty  also  to  support  us  :  he  owes  us 
no  obligation." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Blanche  ?  " 

"  He  will,  therefore,  have  us  to  work  for  in  addition ;  for  you 
know  we  have  no  means  in  the  world  of  providing  for  ourselves." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that !  You  are  quite  right — so  he  will ! 
How  sorry  I  am  !" 

"  Look  here,  sister.  It  is  no  use  for  Dagobert  to  tell  us  about  our 
father  being  a  duke  and  marshal  of  France ;  it  is  also  folly  to  expect  great 
things  from  this  medal,  so  long  as  our  father  is  away  and  our  hopes 
are  not  realised.  We  are  still  nothing  but  two  poor  girls,  obliged  to 
be  a  burthen  on  this  worthy  family,  to  whom  we  are  already  so  much 
indebted,  and  who  are  themselves  so  much  in  want " 

"  Why  do  you  pause,  dear  sister?" 

"  What  I  am  going  to  say  would  make  other  persons  laugh,  but 
you  will  understand  me.  Yesterday,  Dagobert's  wife  said,  sadly,  as 
she  watched  Kill-joy  eating,  '  Poor  dog,  you  eat  as  much  as  a  grown- 
up person;'  and  the  tone  in  which  she  spoke  brought  the  tears  in  my 
eyes,  because  it  shewed  how  poor  they  were ;  and  yet  we  have  come  to 
increase  their  poverty." 

And  the  sisters  looked  tenderly  and  sorrowfully  on  each  other's 
faces,  while  Kill-joy  affected  not  to  understand  the  recent  allusion  to 
his  exceeding  appetite. 

"  Now  I  understand,"  said  Rose,  after  a  short  silence.  "  You 
mean,  dear  sister,  that  we  ought  not  to  be  a  load  upon  any  one's  hands. 
Neither  will  we  :  we  are  young,  and  I  have  good  courage.  Let  us, 
while  awaiting  the  events  which  are  to  decide  our  fate,  fancy  ourselves 
merely  the  daughters  of  a  mere  artisan  :  and  is  not  our  grandfather  a 
working  person  at  this  very  moment  ?  Let  us  then  obtain  some  work, 
and  so  earn  our  own  livelihood.  Oh  !  how  happy  and  proud  ought 
we  to  be  to  work  for  our  own  support ! " 

"  Dearest  sister !  "  said  Blanche,  embracing  Rose,  "  how  delighted 
we  shall  be — shall  we  not?  Ah,  you  have  anticipated  my  \vishes  !  — 
kiss  me,  dear,  dear  sister — but  I  knew  of  your  intention  before." 

"  How  could  you  possibly  know  of  it  ?  " 

"Ah,  your  project  was  mine  also!     Yes,  when  I  heard  poor 


PRESENTIMENTS.  329 

Madame  Fran£oise  lament  so  piteously  the  failure  of  her  sight,  I  first 
looked  at  your  large  clear  eyes,  and  in  them,  dear  sister,  I  read  your 
thoughts ;  then  I  considered  my  own  eyes,  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  Well, 
if  this  poor  wife  of  our  good  Dagobert  has  lost  her  eyesight,  Mes- 
demoiselles  Rose  and  Blanche  Simon  can  see  perfectly  well,  and  may 
be  able  to  make  up  for  it,' "  added  Blanche,  smiling. 

"  And  after  all,"  replied  Rose,  smiling  in  her  turn,  "  these  same 
Mesdemoiselles  Simon  are  not  so  helpless  and  awkward  but  that  they 
can  stitch  together  coarse  bags  of  grey  cloth,  which  may  perhaps  rub 
the  skin  off  our  fingers  a  little  at  starting;  but  that  is  nothing." 

"  You  see  we  both  had  the  same  thoughts,  as  usual,  only  I  wanted 
to  surprise  you,  and  to  wait  till  we  were  alone  to  tell  you  my  idea." 

"  Yes  ;  but  one  thing  vexes  me." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  Dagobert  and  his  wife  will  be  sure  to  say  to 
us,  '  Oh,  young  ladies,  that  is  not  the  sort  of  work  for  you.  Oh,  no  ! 
you,  the  daughters  of  a  marshal  of  France,  to  spoil  your  fingers  with 
such  coarse  stuff  as  that ! '  And  then  if  we  insist,  they  will  pretend 
they  have  nothing  to  do ;  and  that  if  we  are  resolved  to  employ  our- 
selves, we  must  go  and  seek  for  work ;  and  then,  I  fear,  the  Mes- 
demoiselles Simon  would  find  themselves  somewhat  embarrassed  to  know 
where  or  to  whom  to  go  to  ask  for  employment." 

"  The  truth  is,  that  when  once  Dagobert  takes  a  thing  into  his 
head " 

"  Oh  !  but  we  can  always  coax  him  into  any  thing  we  desire." 

"  Yes,  in  some  things,  certainly ;  but  in  others  it  is  impossible  to 
persuade  him.  Only  see  how  determined  he  was  all  through  the 
journey,  whenever  we  tried  to  prevent  his  taking  so  much  trouble 
for  us."  • 

"  Oh,  dear  sister,"  exclaimed  Rose,  "  I  have  just  thought  of  some- 
thing— such  an  excellent  idea!" 

"  Tell  me  quickly  !  what  is  it  ?  You  know  that  young  work- 
woman they  call  La  Mayeux,  who  seems  so  obliging  and  industrious  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  so  timid  and  fearful  of  giving  offence.  She  seems  as 
though  she  was  always  fearful  of  inconveniencing  you,  even  if  she 
looked  at  you.  I  watched  her  yesterday,  without  her  being  aware  I 
saw  her,  while  she  earnestly  regarded  you  with  an  air  so  kind,  so 
gentle,  and  so  full  of  pleasure  at  being  permitted  to  behold  you,  that  I 
felt  myself  moved  even  to  tears." 

"  Well,  we  must  ask  La  Mayeux  how  she  manages  to  find  occu- 
pation, for  she  certainly  supports  herself  by  her  own  hands." 

"  You  are  right :  she  will  tell  us,  no  doubt,  where  work  can  be 
had  ;  and  when  we  know  that,  Dagobert  may  scold  as  much  as  he  likes 
and  try  to  persuade  us  not — we  shall  be  as  obstinate  as  himself." 

"  To  be  sure  we  will !  Let  us  shew  our  resolution,  and  prove  to 
him,  in  his  own  words,  that  we  have  a  soldier's  blood  in  our  veins." 

'"You  assert  that  we  shall  one  day  be  rich,  good  Dagobert,'  we  will 
say  to  him.  '  Well,  so  much  the  better ;  we  shall  then  look  back  with 
increased  pleasure  on  what  we  are  now  about  to  do.' " 

"  Then  now  it  is  agreed — is  it  not,  Rose?  that  the  first  time  we 
are  alone  with  La  Mayeux  we  shall  tell  her  all  our  plans,  and  ask  her 


THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

advice  and  assistance.  She  looks  so  kind  and  good,  I  feel  sure  she 
will  not  refuse  us." 

"  And  when  our  dear  father  returns,  I  feel  assured  he  will  approve 
of  our  courage." 

"  And  applaud  us  for  having  depended  on  our  own  exertions  alone, 
just  as  if  we  had  no  friend  in  the  world." 

As  Blanche  spoke  these  words,  Rose  started,  while  an  expression  of 
sadness,  almost  amounting  to  alarm,  passed  over  her  sweet  face,  as 
she  exclaimed, — 

"Heavens,  sister!  what  an  idea!  Don't  say  that  again  —  you 
terrify  me  I " 

"  And  you,  too,  dear  Rose,  you  frighten  me  :  what  do  you  mean?" 

"  Just  as  you  said  that  our  father  would  be  pleased  with  us  for 
acting  as  though  we  were  alone  in  the  world,  a  frightful  idea  entered 
my  mind  —  I  know  not  why;  but  feel — feel  how  my  heart  beats,  as 
though  some  terrible  misfortune  were  about  to  happen  to  us." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  your  poor  little  heart  beats  as  though  it  would 
break :  but  what  misfortune  were  you  thinking  of  that  could  befall  us? 
Oh,  dear  Rose,  you  know  not  how  you  alarm  me  I " 

"  When  we  were  prisoners,  at  least  we  were  not  separated ;  and, 
besides,  our  prison  was  a  safe  asylum." 

"  A  sad  one,  dear  sister,  though  shared  by  you." 

"  But  suppose  that  when  we  came  here,  any  accident  or  misfortune 
had  separated  us  from  Dagobert ;  imagine  our  being  alone,  without 
friends,  in  this  great  city  I" 

"  Oh,  sister,  do  not  talk  of  that !  You  are  right — it  is  a  frightful 
idea.  Gracious  Heavens !  what  would  become  of  us  ?  " 

At  these  words  the  orphans  remained  for  a  moment  overwhelmed 
with  the  contemplation  of  so  fearful  a  calamity,  while  their  lovely  counte- 
nances, until  animated  by  the  kindling  of  youthful  hope,  lost  their  rich 
bloom,  and  were  overcast  with  sadness. 

After  a  silence  of  several  minutes,  Rose  raised  her  head — her  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  said  she,  at  length,  in  a  trembling  voice ; 
"  I  cannot  account  for  this  thought  having  so  suddenly  darted  across 
my  brain,  but  my  heart  seems  to  tell  me  such  a  misfortune  will  one 
day  overtake  us." 

"  I  feel  equally  terrified  as  yourself.  Alas  !  what  should  we  do  if 
we  were  lost  in  this  immense  city  ! " 

"  Come,  dear  Blanche,  don't  let  us  encourage  these  thoughts.  Are 
we  not  safe  here  with  our  faithful  Dagobert  and  his  worthy  family  ?  " 

"  I  almost  fancy,  dear  sister,"  replied  Rose,  with  a  pensive  air, 
"  that  it  is  probably  for  our  good  these  ideas  have  entered  our  minds." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  Because  now  we  shall  set  a  higher  value  on  this  humble  dwelling, 
since  it  serves  to  shelter  us  from  all  such  frightful  apprehensions ;  and 
where  besides,  thanks  to  our  own  exertions,  we  shall  not  be  a  burthen  to 
any  one.  What  more  can  we  desire  until  the  arrival  of  our  father  ?  " 

"  No,  we  shall  not  want  for  any  tiling,  certainly  ;  but  wherefore  has 
the  cruel  fear  stolen  into  our  minds,  and  why  are  we  so  much  oppressed 
by  the  mere  dread  of  such  an  evil  as  it  threatens  ?  " 


THE  LETTER.  331 

"  Why,  indeed  ?  After  all,  are  we  not  here  in  the  midst  of  friends 
who  love  us  ?  How  is  it  for  a  moment  to  be  supposed  that  we  should 
ever  be  left  all  alone  in  Paris  ?  It  is  quite  impossible  such  a  mis- 
fortune should  ever  befall  us — don't  you  think  so,  sister  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  I"  said  Rose,  shuddering;  "  nothing,  however  unlikely, 
is  impossible.  Suppose  the  evening  that  we  reached  that  village  in 
Germany  where  poor  Jovial  was  killed,  any  one  had  said  to  us,  '  This 
time  to-mor.row  you  will  be  in  a  prison,'  we  should  have  replied,  '  Im- 
possible!' As  we  now  say,  was  not  Dagobert  also  there  to  protect  and 
watch  over  us  ?  What  had  we  then  to  fear  more  than  now  ?  And  yet 
remember,  dear  sister,  that  by  the  day  following  we  were  in  a  prison 
at  Leipsic." 

"  Oh,  cease  to  remind  me  of  such  fearful  things,  dear  sister,  I  im- 
plore ;  the  very  recollection  frightens  me." 

And  by  a  sort  of  sympathetic  movement  the  orphans  grasped  each 
other  by  the  hand,  and  pressing  close!}'  together,  looked  around  them 
with  involuntary  terror ;  and  the  emotion  they  experienced  was  indeed 
profound,  strange,  and  inexplicable,  yet  vaguely  threatening,  like  those 
evil  presentiments  which  terrify,  even  in  spite  of  all  our  reason  can 
advance — similar  to  those  fatal  forebodings  which  frequently  illumine 
with  a  lurid  gleam  the  dark  abyss  of  the  future. 

Wild,  incomprehensible  predictions,  frequently  forgotten  as  soon  as 
heard,  sometimes,  when  in  after-life  their  full  accomplishment  recalls 
them  to  our  mind,  make  us  shudder  while  we  wonder  at  their  fearful 
accuracy. 

*  *  # 

The  daughters  of  General  Simon  were  still  plunged  in  the  mournful 
reverie  occasioned  by  the  thoughts  so  singularly  awakened  within  their 
minds,  when  the  wife  of  Dagobert  returned  from  her  unsuccessful 
errand  to  her  son's  chamber,  her  features  expressive  of  the  profoundest 
grief  and  wretchedness. 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 

THE  LETTER. 

WHEN  Fran9oise  returned  to  the  chamber  her  countenance  wore 
an  appearance  of  such  intense  suffering  that  Rose  could  not  forbear 
exclaiming, — 

"  Dear  madame,  what  has  happened  to  you  ? " 

"  Alas !  my  dear  young  ladies,  I  can  no  longer  conceal  my  grief," 
and  here  Francoise's  tears  impeded  her  voice.  "  I  expected  my  son 
home  last  night,  as  usual — he  never  returned.  I  did  not  wish  you  to 
see  how  much  I  was  distressed  about  it,  and  I  kept  counting  each 
minute,  fully  believing  I  should  see  him  enter,  for  never  has  he  gone 
to  his  bed  without  first  embracing  me  and  wishing  me  good-night. 
Great  part  of  the  night  I  sat  by  the  door  listening  for  his  step  on  the 
stairs,  but  I  heard  nothing.  About  three  o'clock  this  morning,  I  threw 


332  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

myself  for  a  short  time  on  a  taattrass  beside  you.  I  have  just  been  to 
see  whether  (though,  indeed,  I  scarcely  ventured  to  hope  it)  my  son 
had  not  returned,  and,  fearful  of  disturbing  me,  retired  to  his  room." 

"  Well,  madame  ! " 

"  He  is  not  there,"  said  the  poor  mother,  wiping  her  eyes. 

Hose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  emotion,  occupied  by 
the  same  ideas — should  Agricola  not  return,  how  would  this  family  be 
maintained  ?  and  would  not  their  presence  be  an  additional  burthen 
under  so  trying  a  circumstance  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  madame,"  said  Blanche,  "  M.  Agricola  was  detained  too 
late  over  his  work  to  be  able  to  return  in  the  evening  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  he  knew  too  well  the  uneasiness  his  absence  would 
occasion  me.  He  would  have  come  home,  even  had  it  been  the 
middle  of  the  night.  Alas!  some  accident  must  have  befallen  him — 
perhaps  at  the  forge, — he  is  so  energetic  and  courageous  at  his 
work.  Oh,  my  son!  —  my  dear  son!  And  as  though  I  were  not 
wretched  enough  on  his  account,  I  have  the  additional  misery  of  being 
also  uneasy  for  the  safety  of  the  poor  young  sempstress  who  lives 
up-stairs." 

"  What  of  her,  madame  ?  " 

"  When  I  left  my  son's  apartment,  I  thought  I  would  go  and  tell 
my  trouble  to  her,  for  she  is  the  same  to  me  as  a  daughter.  She  was 
absent  also.  It  was  scarcely  light  in  the  small  chamber  she  occupied, 
but  I  could  distinguish  that  the  bed  had  not  been  slept  in  ;  it  was  just 
as  I  saw  it  yesterday.  Where  can  she  have  gone  at  this  early  hour  ? 
she  who  never  goes  out ! " 

Again  the  looks  of  Rose  and  Blanche  consulted  each  other  what 
was  to  be  done  in  this  emergency,  which  threatened  so  completely  to 
overturn  the  hopes  they  had  formed  of  accomplishing  their  designs 
through  the  medium  of  La  Mayeux.  Happily  their  disquietude,  as  well 
as  that  of  Francoise,  was  quickly  dispelled  by  hearing  first  two  gentle 
taps  at  the  door,  and  then  the  voice  of  La  Mayeux  inquiring  "  May  I 
come  in,  Madame  Fran9oise  ?  "  By  a  simultaneous  impulse  the  sisters 
flew  to  the  door,  and  opened  it  for  the  young  girl. 

The  sleet  and  snow  had  fallen  incessantly  during  the  night,  and  the 
old  cotton  gown  of  the  poor  sempstress,  her  little  shawl,  and  black  net 
cap,  which,  displaying  the  thick  braids  of  her  chestnut  hair,  sur- 
rounded her  pale  and  interesting  countenance,  were  wet  through. 
The  intense  cold  had  rendered  her  thin  white  hands  livid  as  those  of 
a  corpse.  In  the  bright  gleam  of  her  usually  timid  and  downcast 
eyes  might  alone  be  detected  the  fire  and  energy  which  this  ordinarily 
weak  and  shrinking  creature  had  found  to  sustain  her  during  circum- 
stances so  grave  and  important  as  the  present. 

"  My  dear  Mayeux  !  "  said  Franyoise,  "  where  have  you  been  ? 
Just  now,  when  I  went  to  look  in  my  son's  room  whether  or  not  he 
had  returned,  I  opened  your  door,  and  was  thunderstruck  at  perceiving 
you  had  gone  out.  Where  could  you  have  to  go  so  early  as  this?  " 

"  I  bring  you  news  of  Agricola  !  " 

"  Of  my  son  !  "  exclaimed  Fran9oise,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 
"  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  Have  you  seen  him  ? — spoken  to  him? 
Where  is  he?" 


THE  LETTER.  383 

La  Mayeux,  perceiving  how  deadly  pale  Francoise  looked,  hastened 
to  reassure  her: 

"  Do  not  alarm  yourself  so  much — he  is  quite  well,  and  iu  no 
danger !  " 

"  Blessed  be  thou,  my  God !  "  cried  Fnu^oise,  throwing  herself 
upon  her  knees  on  the  floor,  and  piously  crossing  herself;  "blessed  be 
Thy  name  for  this  Thy  mercy  to  an  unworthy  sinner  I  The  day  before 
yesterday  you  restored  my  husband  to  me ;  and  now,  after  so  cruel  an 
agony  of  suspense,  you  deign  to  remove  my  fears  for  the  safety  of  my 
beloved  son !  " 

During  the  short  silence  caused  by  this  devotional  burst  on  the 
part  of  Franchise,  the  orphans  approached  La  Mayeux,  and  said,  in  a 
low  tone,  with  an  expression  of  the  most  touching  interest, 

"  How  wet  your  clothes  are  I  You  must  be  very  cold  I  Pray 
take  care  !  Only  think  if  you  were  to  be  ill !  " 

"  We  did  not  like  to  speak  to  Madame  Franchise  about  lighting 
the  fire  ;  but  now  we  will  remind  her  of  it." 

Equally  surprised  as  penetrated  with  the  kindness  exhibited  towards 
her  by  the  daughters  of  General  Simon,  La  Mayeux  (the  most  sen- 
sitive creature  living  of  the  smallest  attention  or  care  bestowed  upon 
her)  replied,  with  a  look  of  the  deepest  gratitude, 

"  Many  thanks,  young  ladies,  for  your  kind  consideration  I  But 
pray  do  not  be  uneasy  on  my  account :  I  am  used  to  the  cold ;  and, 
besides,  I  am  too  uneasy  in  my  thoughts  even  to  feel  it." 

"  And  now,  tell  me  of  my  son  ! "  cried  Francoise,  rising,  after 
having  remained  some  minutes  in  her  kneeling  position.  "  Why  did 
he  not  return  home  all  night  ?  and  how  came  you,  my  good  Mayeux, 
to  know  where  to  find  him?  Is  he  coming  soon?  W7hat  detains 
him  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you,  Madame  Francoise,  Agricola  is  quite  well ;  but,  I 
must  also  tell  you,  it  will  be  sometime  " 

"  Speak  !  for  Heaven's  sake  !  " 

"  Nay,  dear  Madame  Francoise,  summon  your  courage  while  I 
explain " 

"  God  of  Heaven  !  what  can  you  mean  ?  —  my  blood  seems  to 
freeze  within  my  veins  I  Tell  me,  I  implore  you,  what  has  happened  ! 
What  prevents  his  coming  to  me  ?  " 

"  Alas,  madame,  he  is  arrested  !  " 

"  Arrested  !  "  exclaimed  Rose  and  Blanche,  with  terror. 

"  God's  will  be  done  !  "  said  Francoise,  meekly  ;  "  but  this  is  a  sore 
and  a  heavy  misfortune!  Arrested! — he,  so  good,  so  honest,  and 
upright  I  Why  has  he  been  arrested  ?  Surely  there  must  be  some 
mistake  I  " 

"  The  day  before  yesterday,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  "  I  received  an 
anonymous  letter,  telling  me  that  Agricola  was  in  hourly  danger  of 
being  arrested,  in  consequence  of  his  having  written  the  verses  called 
'  The  Workman's  Song.'  We  agreed  together  that  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  would  be  to  go  to  the  house  of  that  rich  young  lady  in  the 
Rue  de  Baby  lone,  who  promised  to  serve  him  in  any  way  he  wished : 
so  Agricola  went  to  beg  of  her  to  be  a  sort  of  security  for  him,  to 
prevent  his  being  taken  to  prison  ;  and  that  was  his  reason  for  going 
out  so  early  yesterday  morning." 


334  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Why  did  neither  you  nor  Agricola  mention  this  to  me  before  ? 
Why  was  I  kept  in  ignorance  of  all  that  concerned  him  ?  " 

"  That  you  might  be  spared  the  uneasiness  it  would  have  caused 
you,  Madame  Francoise ;  for,  relying  on  the  generous  interference  of 
the  good  young  lady,  I  expected  Agricola  back  every  instant ;  and 
when  he  did  not  return  yesterday  evening,  I  thought  perhaps  the  forms 
requisite  for  putting  in  the  security  might  have  detained  him  so  long. 
But  hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  still  he  did  not  appear ;  and  in 
that  manner  I  watched  and  waited  through  the  night." 

"  My  poor  Mayeux,  you  have  not  been  in  bed  all  night  I  " 

"  I  was  much  too  uneasy;  so,  unable  to  bear  this  state  of  fearful 
suspense  any  longer,  directly  there  was  a  glimmer  of  light  in  the  sky  I 
went  out.  I  recollected  the  address  of  the  young  lady  in  the  Rue  de 
Babylone,  and  thither  I  hastened  as  fast  as  I  could  run." 

"Quite  right — quite  right!"  said  Francoise,  anxiously:  "you 
could  not  have  done  better ;  and  from  what  my  son  told  us,  the  young 
lady  seems  to  have  been  most  kindly  and  generously  disposed." 

La  Mayeux  shook  her  head  mournfully ;  a  tear  glittered  in  her  eye, 
as  she  continued, 

"  When  I  reached  the  Rue  de  Babylone  it  was  still  dark,  so  I  had 
to  wait  till  it  was  day." 

"  Poor  child ! "  said  Francoise,  profoundly  touched ;  "  you,  so 
timid  and  fearful,  to  go  all  that  way  !  and  in  such  dreadful  weather, 
too  I  Ah,  you  are  more  than  a  daughter  to  me !  " 

"  Is  not  Agricola  more  than  a  brother  to  me  ?  "  said  La  Mayeux, 
slightly  blushing.  Then  she  resumed  : 

"  When  it  was  quite  broad  daylight,  I  ventured  to  ring  the  bell  of 
the  little  pavilion  :  a  charming  young  girl,  but  whose  countenance 
looked  pale  and  sorrowful,  came  to  open  the  door.  '  Mademoiselle,' 
said  I,  to  interest  her  in  my  favour  (for  I  was  afraid,  seeing  me  so 
poorly  dressed,  she  would  send  me  away  as  a  beggar),  '  Mademoiselle, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  come  from  a  poor  mother,  who  is  in  the 
greatest  distress  about  her  son.'  Then,  seeing  that  far  from  being 
angry  the  young  girl  listened  kindly  to  what  I  said,  I  went  on  to  ask 
whether,  on  the  previous  day,  a  young  artisan  had  not  been  there  to 
entreat  of  her  mistress  to  do  him  a  great  favour  ? 

"  *  Alas  !  yes,'  replied  the  female ;  '  and  my  mistress  was  going  to 
do  what  he  asked  her,  when,  finding  he  was  being  sought  after  for 
the  purpose  of  being  arrested,  she  concealed  him  in  the  house.  Un- 
fortunately his  retreat  was  discovered,  and  yesterday  afternoon,  about 
four  o'clock,  he  was  arrested  and  conducted  to  prison.'  " 

Although  the  orphans  took  no  part  in  this  conversation,  it  was  easy 
to  perceive,  by  their  sorrowful  countenances  and  uneasy  looks,  how 
deeply  they  sympathised  with  the  wife  of  Dagobert. 

"  But  the  young  lady  !  "  cried  Francoise  ;  "  you  should  have 
endeavoured,  my  good  Mayeux,  to  see  her  herself,  and  beseech  her  not 
to  abandon  my  poor  son.  She  is  so  rich,  and  no  doubt  equally  pow- 
erful, her  interference  may  yet  save  us  from  so  heavy  a  misfortune." 

"Ah,  no  I  "replied  La  Mayeux,  with  a  bitter  grief;  "we  must 
renounce  all  hope  of  that" 

"And  why?"  said  Francoise;  "since  this  young  lady  is  so  good, 
when  she  knows  that  my  son  is  the  sole  support  of  his  family,  she  will 


THE    GRIEF    OF    PRANCOISE. 


Hull          Miii-fll    I        -I 


THE  LETTER.  835 

take  pity  on  us.  She  will  see  why  being  sent  to  prison  is  more  dread- 
ful for  him  than  many  others,  because  it  will  reduce  us  all  to  want  and 
misery." 

"  This  young  lady,"  resumed  La  Mayeux,  "  as  I  understood  from 
the  young  girl,  who  wept  bitterly  as  she  told  me,  this  poor  lady  was 
taken  yesterday  evening  to  a  private  madhouse,  having  gone  utterly 
out  of  her  senses." 

"  How  dreadful  for  her!  — as  well  as  for  us,  alas  !  also.  Now  we 
have  no  hope  to  cling  to,  nothing  to  look  forward  to.  What  will 
become  of  us  without  my  son  ?  My  God  !  my  God  !" 

So  saying,  the  heartbroken  mother  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  while  bitter  sobs  burst  from  her  lips. 

While  Francoise  thus  yielded  to  her  overwhelming  grief,  a  pro- 
found silence  reigned  among  the  three  spectators  of  the  scene. 

Rose  and  Blanche  exchanged  looks  of  deep  distress,  expressive  of 
their  unfeigned  commiseration  and  sorrow,  for  they  well  understood 
how  much  they  must  add  to  the  terrible  embarrassment  of  the  family  ; 
while  La  Mayeux,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  torn  by  so  many  painful 
emotions,  and  shivering  from  her  wet,  chill  garments,  seated  herself 
dejectedly  on  the  chair,  reflecting  on  the  desperate  condition  of  the 
family. 

And  most  frightful,  indeed,  was  the  situation  in  which  it  was  now 
placed. 

During  the  times  of  political  troubles  or  agitations,  caused  in  the 
labouring  classes  by  a  compulsory  cessation  from  work,  or  by  the 
shameful  reduction  of  their  pay,  which  is  imposed  upon  them,  without 
redress,  by  the  powerful  coalition  of  capitalists, — very  often,  at  such 
periods,  whole  families  of  artisans  are,  thanks  to  the  preventive  deten- 
tion, placed  in  a  position  as  deplorable  as  that  of  Dagobert's  by  the 
apprehension  of  Agricola — an  arrest  owing,  moreover,  as  we  shall  find 
hereafter,  to  the  intrigues  of  Rodin  and  his  myrmidons. 

Apropos  of  preventive  detention,  which  sometimes  occurs  to  honest, 
hardworking  artificers,  almost  always  driven  to  the  sad  extremity  of 
coalitions  by  the  want  of  organisation  in  their  own  trades,  and  the 
loivness  of  tlieir pay ;  it  is,  in  our  opinion,  painful  to  see  the  law,  which 
ought  to  be  equal  to  all,  refuse  to  these  what  it  grants  to  those, 
because  t/iose  can  dispose  of  a  certain  sum  of  money. 

In  many  cases  the  rich  man,  by  means  of  caution  (deposit  of  a 
certain  sum),  can  escape  the  annoyance  and  distress  of  preventive 
imprisonment.  He  lays  down  a  certain  sum,  gives  his  word  to  appear 
on  a  stated  day,  and  returns  instantly  to  his  pleasures,  his  occupations, 
or  the  bosom  of  his  family. 

Nothing  can  be  better :  every  person  accused  is  deemed  innocent, 
and  this  maxim  cannot  be  too  deeply  or  generally  impressed. 

So  much  the  better  for  the  rich,  since  he  can  avail  himself  of  the 
benefit  of  the  law. 

But  the  poor  man  ? 

Not  only  has  he  no  caution  to  lay  down,  for  he  has  no  capital  but 
his  daily  labour,  but  it  is  for  him  particularly,  poor  as  he  is,  that  the 
rigours  of  a  preventive  incarceration  are  powerful  and  terrible. 

For  the  rich  man  the  prison  is  the  lack  of  ease  and  comfort — it  is 
ennui ;  the  pain  of  being  separated  from  his  family  or  friends,  and  that 


336  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

deserves  commiseration,  for  all  that  is  painful  is  pitiable  ;  and  the  tears 
of  the  rich  man  separated  from  his  children  are  as  bitter  as  those  of  the 
poor  man  similarly  removed. 

But  the  absence  of  the  rich  man  does  not  condemn  his  family  to 
fasting  and  cold,  nor  to  the  incurable  maladies  caused  by  exhaustion 
and  misery. 

On  the  contrary,  for  the  artisan  prison  is  actual  distress,  a  per- 
fect deprivation,  ending  sometimes  in  the  death  of  his  family. 

Possessing  nothing  he  is  unable  to  furnish  any  caution,  and  is 
imprisoned. 

What,  then,  if  he  have,  as  generally  happens,  an  infirm  father  or 
mother,  a  sick  wife,  or  infants  in  the  cradle  ?  What  will  become  of  this 
unfortunate  family  ?  It  can  hardly  live  from  day  to  day  on  this  man's 
earnings,  which  are  almost  always  insufficient ;  and  then,  in  one  instant, 
this  sole  support  is  cut  off  for  three  or  four  months.  What  will  become 
of  this  family  ?  To  what  can  they  have  recourse  ?  What  will  become 
of  the  infirm  old  man,  the  sickly  woman,  the  little  children  unable  to 
make  the  slightest  exertion  to  gain  their  daily  bread  ?  If  by  chance 
they  have  a  little  linen  or  clothing  in  the  house,  they  may  take  it  to 
the  Mont  de  Piete,  and  with  this  resource  they  may,  perhaps,  exist 
for  a  week :  but  what  then  ? 

And  suppose,  moreover,  that  the  winter  adds  its  severities  to  this 
trying  and  inevitable  misery  ! 

Then  the  imprisoned  artisan  will  see  in  his  "  mind's  eye,"  during 
long  and  sleepless  nights,  those  most  dear  to  him,  haggard,  withering, 
and  exhausted  for  want,  sleeping  almost  naked  on  a  sordid  couch,  and 
trying,  by  drawing  close  to  each  other,  to  warm  their  frozen  limbs. 

Then,  if  the  workman  is  acquitted,  he  is  ruined,  and  finds  nothing 
but  distress  when,  at  last,  he  reaches  his  miserable  home. 

And  then,  too,  after  so  long  a  cessation  from  labour  the  connexions 
which  brought  him  work  are  broken  off,  how  many  days  lost  in  seek- 
ing to  find  work  again  I  For  a  day  without  labour  is  a  day  without 
bread. 

Let  us  repeat,  that  if  the  law  did  not  offer,  under  certain  circum- 
stances, to  those  who  are  rich  the  privilege  of  caution,  we  might  groan 
over  inevitable  and  severe  misfortunes  ;  but  since  the  law  consents  to 
put  at  liberty,  provisionally,  those  who  possess  a  certain  sum  of  money, 
why  does  it  deprive  of  this  advantage  those  to  whom  particularly 
liberty  is  indispensable,  since  liberty  is  to  them  the  very  life  and 
vitality  of  their  family  ? 

In  this  deplorable  state  of  things  is  there  any  remedy?  We 
think  so. 

The  minimum  of  the  caution  required  by  the  law  is  five  hundred 
francs.  But  five  hundred  francs  is  about  the  average  amount  of  six 
months'  labour  of  an  industrious  workman. 

If  he  have  a  wife  and  two  children  (which  is  also  about  the 
average  amount  of  his  family),  it  is  evident  that  it  is  absolutely 
impossible  that  he  can  have  saved  such  a  sum. 

Therefore  to  require  from  him  five  hundred  francs,  in  order  that 
he  may  still  be  capable  of  maintaining  his  family,  is  virtually  placing 
him  beyond  the  pale  of  the  benefit  of  the  law ;  he  who,  more  than 
anybody,  ought  to  have  the  right  to  enjoy  it  in  consideration  of  the 


THE  LETTER.  337 

disastrous  results  which  his  preventive  imprisonment  brings  upon  his 
family. 

Would  it  not  be  equitable,  humane,  and  noble,  and  leave  a  salutary 
example,  if  we  accepted,  in  all  cases  in  which  the  caution  is  admitted, 
and  when  the  honesty  of  the  accused  had  been  clearly  attested,  to 
accept  the  moral  guarantees  of  those  whose  poverty  did  not  allow 
them  to  deposit  tangible  guarantees,  and  who  have  no  other  capital 
but  that  of  their  labour  and  probity — to  accept  their  word,  as  honest 
men,  to  present  themselves  at  the  day  appointed  for  their  sentence  ? 

Would  it  not  be  moral  and  great,  especially  in  these  our  days,  to 
increase  thus  the  value  of  a  sworn  promise,  and  thus  to  elevate  a  man 
in  his  own  eyes,  by  allowing  his  oath  to  be  considered  as  sufficient 
guarantee  ? 

If  we  deny  the  possibility,  or  exclaim  against  the  Utopianism  of 
this  suggestion,  do  we  not  depreciate  the  dignity  of  mankind?  We 
will  ask  if  many  of  the  prisoners  of  war  on  parole  have  ever  been 
known  to  perjure  themselves,  and  whether  or  not  those  soldiers  and 
officers  were  not  ordinarily  those  who  had  sprung  from  the  people? 

Without  at  all  exaggerating  the  virtue  of  an  oath  amongst  the  work- 
ing, honest,  and  poorer  classes,  we  are  certain  that  the  undertaking 
given  by  the  accused  to  appear  duly  on  the  day  appointed  would  be 
always  fulfilled,  not  only  with  fidelity  and  punctuality,  but  also  with 
deep  gratitude,  inasmuch  as  his  family  had  not  suffered  by  his  absence, 
thanks  to  the  indulgence  of  the  law. 

It  is,  besides,  a  fact  of  which  France  may  be  justly  proud,  that 
its  magistracy,  as  miserably  paid  as  its  soldiery,  is  learned,  upright, 
humane,  and  independent,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  its  useful  and 
imposing  functions ;  and,  more  than  any  other  body,  it  can  and  does 
know  how  to  appreciate  with  Charity  the  ills  and  vast  sufferings  of 
the  labouring  classes  of  society,  with  whom  she  so  often  comes  in 
contact.* 

Too  much  license  cannot,  then,  be  accorded  to  the  magistrates  in 
cases  in  which  the  moral  caution  (the  only  one  which  can  be  offered 
by  a  labouring  man)  can  be  accepted. 

In  fine,  if  those  who  make  the  laws  and  those  who  govern  us  had 
so  prejudiced  an  opinion  against  the  people  as  to  reject  disdainfully 
the  idea  we  throw  out,  could  they  not  at  least  require  that  the  mini- 
mum of  the  caution  teas  so  lowered,  that  it  would  be  within  tJie  reach  of 
those  who  require  so  urgently  to  escape  from  the  destructive  hardships 
of  the  preventive  detention  9 

Could  we  not  take,  as  an  extreme  limit,  the  average  salary  of  a 
workman  for  a  month?  Say,  eighty  francs. 

That  would  be  still  exorbitant ;  but  then,  by  the  help  of  his  friends, 
the  help  of  the  pawnbroker,  and  some  advances,  perhaps  the  eighty 
franes  might  be  raised — perhaps  not  always  ;  but  if  sometimes,  why 
many  poor  families  might  be  snatched  from  frightful  misery. 

This  said,  we  will  now  return  to  Dagobert's  family,  who,  in  conse- 

*  We  have  quoted  in  another  work,  and  one  read  always  with  as  much  respect 
as  deep  sympathy,  the  admirable  volume  of  M.  Prosper  Tarbe,  Procureur  du  Hoi. 
"  Travail  et  Salaire"  ("  Work  and  Pay")  is  one  of  the  most  sound  and  elevated 
works  that  a  deep  love  of  humanity  ever  inspired  to  a  generous  heart,  a  lively 
intelligence,  and  a  clear  and  practical  mind. — K.  SVE. 

22  z 


338  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

quence  of  the  preventive  detention  of  Agricola,  were  in  a  most  dis- 
tressing state. 

Reflection  served  but  to  increase  the  wretchedness  of  Francoise ; 
for,  reckoning  the  daughters  of  General  Simon,  she  perceived  a  family 
of  four  persons  absolutely  destitute  of  all  means  of  support :  though, 
it  must  be  confessed,  the  tender  mother  thought  much  less  of  herself 
than  she  did  of  the  misery  her  son  would  experience  at  the  recollection 
of  her  destitute  and  helpless  condition. 

At  this  moment  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  Fra^oise. 

"  Tis  I,  Madame  Francoise — Father  Lorrain." 

"  Pray  come  in,"  said  the  wife  of  Dagobert. 

The  dyer,  who  also  fulfilled  the  duties  of  porter,  appeared  at  the 
door  of  the  apartment:  instead  of  exhibiting  the  same  bright -green 
hue  upon  his  hands  and  arms,  he  this  day  displayed  a  magnificent 
violet-colour. 

"  Madame  Francoise,"  said  Father  Lorrain,  "  here  is  a  letter, 
which  has  just  been  brought  by  the  person  who  gives  the  holy  water 
at  Saint -Merry:  he  says  he  brings  it  from  the  Abbe  Dubois,  who 
wished  it  to  be  carried  up  stairs  to  you  directly,  for  that  it  was  on 
very  particular  business." 

"  A  letter  from  my  confessor  !"  said  Francoise,  greatly  astonished : 
then  taking  it,  she  added,  "  Thank  you,  Father  Lorrain." 

"  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you,  Madame  Francoise?" 

"  Nothing,  I  thank  you,  Father  Lorrain." 

"  Servant,  ladies  all!"  said  the  dyer,  as  he  backed  out  of  the  chamber. 

"  Will  you  read  me  this  letter,  my  good  Mayeux  ?"  said  Francoise, 
somewhat  uneasy  as  to  its  contents. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  willingly,  madame  !"  returned  the  girl,  reading  aloud 
as  follows : 

"'My  dear  Madame  Baudoin,  —  Although  I  am  usually  in  the 
habit  of  receiving  you  on  Saturdays  and  Tuesdays,  yet,  as  I  shall  be 
fully  engaged  both  to-morrow  and  Saturday,  I  wish  you  to  come  to  me 
directly  you  receive  this — unless,  indeed,  you  prefer  allowing  a  whole 
week  to  elapse  without  your  approaching  the  confessional.'  " 

"  A  week  I"  exclaimed  the  wife  of  Dagobert :  "  Mother  of  Jesus  ! 
no !  Alas  I  I  feel  too  strongly  in  my  present  state  of  trouble  and 
distress  the  necessity  for  an  immediate  opportunity  of  unburthening 
my  mind."  Then  addressing  herself  to  the  orphans  she  said,  "  God 
has  heard  my  prayers  for  you,  my  dear  young  ladies,  since  I  am  this 
very  day  afforded  the  opportunity  of  consulting  a  holy  and  worthy 
man  respecting  the  fearful  danger  you  are  incurring  without  knowing 
it.  Poor  dear  children  !  so  innocent,  and  yet  so  guilty ;  although 
from  no  fault  of  yours.  Heaven  is  my  witness  my  heart  bleeds  for 
you,  even  as  it  does  for  my  own  son." 

Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  in  speechless  amazement, 
wholly  unable  to  comprehend  the  fears  with  which  the  state  of  their 
soul  inspired  the  wife  of  Dagobert. 

Francoise  then  addressing  herself  to  the  young  needlewoman, 
said,  "  My  dear  Mayeux,  I  must  ask  you  to  do  me  another  kindness." 

"  Anything,  Madame  Francoise ;  you  have  only  to  tell  me  what 
you  wish." 


I  HE     LETTKIl. 


I-oiuloii  :  Chupiimn  and  Hall.     May  IS 


THE  LETTER.  339 

"  My  husband  took  Agricola's  week's  wages  to  defray  his  journey 
to  Chartres — that  was  all  the  money  we  had  in  the  house ;  and  I  am 
quite  sure  my  poor  boy  had  not  a  sous  in  his  possession :  perhaps  he 
may  want  many  things  now  he  is  in  prison.  You  must  take  the  silver 
cup,  the  fork  and  spoon,  the  two  best  pairs  of  sheets,  with  the  new 
shawl  Agricola  gave  me  on  my  birthday,  and  go  with  them  to  the 
pawnbroker's.  I  will  try  and  find  out  what  prison  my  son  is  confined 
in.  Then  I  will  send  him  half  of  what  you  get  for  the  things,  and  the 
remainder  will  suffice  for  us  until  the  return  of  my  husband.  But 
when  he  does  come  back  what  shall  we  do  ?  What  a  blow  for  him  ! 
And  still  further  aggravated  by  our  being  reduced  to  absolute  want ; 

for  now  that  my  son  is  in  prison,  and  my  eyesight  gone Oh, 

Lord,  my  God!"  exclaimed  the  unhappy  mother,  with  an  expression 
of  impatient  and  bitter  sorrow,  "  why  afflict  me  thus  ?  Thou  knowest 
I  have  endeavoured  to  deserve  pity  and  mercy,  if  not  for  myself,  at 
least  for  those  most  dear  to  me."  Then  reproaching  herself  for  this 
vehemence,  she  added,  "  Pardon !  oh,  pardon  me  this  unworthy  doubt 
of  Thy  mercy,  O  Almighty  Father  I  and  bend  my  will  to  Thy  will. 
Humbly  do  I  accept  every  trial  Thou  pleasest  to  send,  entreating  only 
that  I,  and  I  alone,  may  be  deemed  worthy  to  beat  the  just  weight  of 
Thy  displeasure." 

"  Dear  Madame  Francoise !"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  take  courage,  I 
beg.  Agricola  is  innocent — he  cannot  be  detained  in  prison  long." 

"  But,  now  I  reflect,"  resumed  Dagobert's  wife,  "  it  would  be 
better  for  me  to  take  the  things  to  the  pawnbroker's ;  it  is  not  right  to 
make  you  lose  your  time,  my  kind  Mayeux." 

"  I  will  make  up  for  it  at  night,  Madame  Framboise :  how  can  I 
sleep  when  you  are  so  unhappy  ?  so  my  work  will  amuse  me." 

"  But,  then,  it  will  cost  you  a  light." 

"  Never  mind,  Madame  Francoise,  I  am  very  well  off  for  money," 
said  the  poor  girl,  blushing  at  her  own  falsehood. 

"  Give  me  one  kiss,  then,"  said  Dagobert's  wife  ;  "  you  are  certainly 
the  best  little  creature  in  the  world." 

So  saying,  Francoise  hastily  quitted  the  room. 

Rose  and  Blanche,  left  alone  with  La  Mayeux,  at  length  saw  that 
morning  arrived  for  which  they  had  so  impatiently  waited :  while 
Dagobert's  wife  soon  reached  the  church  of  Saint-Merry,  where  her 
confessor  awaited  her. 


"  To  tin  Editor, 

"  SIR,  —  Will  you  allow  me  to  make  use  of  the  pages  of  the  Cmiitiiutiaiinel,*  to 
thank  those  correspondents  who  have  so  kindly  forwarded  to  me  statements  and 
Attested  f'.icts  relative  to  the  deplorable  abuses  practised  in  certain  houses  for  the 
Freatment  of  the  Insane  ? 

"  Other  persons,  with  benevolent  sympathy,  for  which  I  here  offer  my  grateful 
thanks,  have  entered  into  some  details  as  to  the  laws  and  regulations  of  houses  for  the 
insane,  and  principally  as  to  the  law  of  May  last. 

"  I  was  not  ignorant  of  the  new  arrangement,  whose  strictness  but  proves  all  tha 
importance  of  the  question  I  have  ventured  to  raise;  but  the  law,  such  as  it  is, 
ippears  to  me  still  insufficient,  and,  as  I  have  already  said,  1  shall  attempt  shortly  to 
ilevelope  certain  views  as  to  an  organisation  of  tpeciat  and  conuquently  complete 
mrveillaiice.  Allow  me,  sir,  &c.  &c. 

"  Paris,  Sept.  19th,  1844."  "  EcoiNE  Sue." 

*  The  French  newspaper  in  which  M.  Sue's  Wandering  Jew  appears. — ENGLISH 

fRANSiATOB. 


340  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

CHAPTER   XLIX. 

THE  CONFESSIONAL. 

NOTHING  could  be  more  dull  than  the  appearance  of  the  parish- 
church  of  Saint-Merry  on  this  lowering  and  snowy  day.  For  a 
moment  Francoise  was  delayed  at  the  porch  by  a  saddening  spectacle. 

Whilst  a  priest  was  murmuring  some  words  in  a  low  voice,  two  or 
three  dirty-looking  choristers,  in  stained  surplices,  were  chanting  the 
prayers  for  the  dead,  with  an  inattentive  and  careless  air,  around  a 
miserably  bad  coffin,  beside  which  an  old  man  and  a  child,  wretchedly 
clad,  stood  alone  and  weeping  bitterly. 

The  door-opener  and  the  beadle,  very  much  scandalised  at  being 
disturbed  for  so  paltry  a  funeral,  had  disdained  putting  on  their 
liveries,  and  were  in  waiting,  yawning  with  impatience  for  the  con- 
clusion of  the  ceremony  which  brought  such  small  fees.  At  last  a 
few  drops  of  holy  water  fell  on  the  coffin,  the  priest  returned  the  holy 
water  sprinkler  to  the  beadle  and  went  away. 

Then  followed  one  of  those  shameful  scenes,  the  necessary  con- 
sequence of  a  dishonourable  and  sacrilegious  traffic ;  one  of  those 
disgusting  scenes  so  frequent  in  cases  of  funerals  for  the  poor  who 
cannot  pay  for  wax  candles,  or  high  mass,  nor  violins,  for  now  there 
are  violins  for  the  dead.* 

The  old  man  extended  his  hand  to  the  beadle  to  receive  the  holy 
water. 

"  Take  it,  and  be  quick  !"  said  the  functionary  of  the  sacristy, 
blowing  his  fingers. 

The  emotion  of  the  old  man  was  great — his  weakness  extreme. 
He  remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  holding  the  brush,  which  was 
dipped  in  the  holy  water,  closed  in  his  trembling  hand.  In  the  bier 
was  his  daughter, — the  mother  of  the  ragged  child  who  was  weeping 
beside  him.  The  heart  of  the  poor  creature  was  bursting  at  the 
thoughts  of  this  last  adieu.  He  was  motionless,  except  the  convulsive 
sobs  that  heaved  his  breast. 

"  Come,  I  say,  make  haste!"  said  the  beadle  brutally  :  "  do  you  sup- 
pose ve  are  going  to  sleep  here  ?"f 

The  old  man  roused  himself.  He  made  a  sign  of  the  cross  on  the 
coffin,  and  stooping  was  about  to  place  the  brush,  saturated  with  holy 
>vater,  in  the  hand  of  his  grandchild,  when  the  sacristan,  thinking  the 
affair  had  lasted  long  enough,  took  the  sprinkler  from  the  child's 
hands,  and  made  a  signal  to  the  bearers  to  lift  the  bier  up  directly, 
which  they  did. 

"  The  old  chap  was  not  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  porter,  in  an  under- 
tone to  the  beadle,  as  they  regained  the  vestry-room  ;  "  he  has  hardly 
given  us  time  to  breakfast  and  dress  ourselves  for  the  out-and-out 
funeral  of  this  morning.  That's  a  real  thing  —  a  dead  corpse  that 
deserves  every  trouble  and  attention.  Heads  up,  soldiers !" 

•  At  tie  church  of  St.  Thomas  d'Aquinas  at  Paris. 


THE     CONFESSIONAL. 


Lull. Ion  :  Chnimian  and  Hall.     June  1.  I-4J 


THE  CONFESSIONAL.  341 

"  Yes,  and  with  colonel's  epaulettes  on  our  shoulders,  that  we  may 
look  the  right  thing  in  the  eyes  of  the  pew-opener,  you  rascal  I"  said 
the  beadle,  with  a  knowing  air. 

"  Well,  Cotillard,  it's  no  fault  of  mine  if  I  am  a  good-looking 
fellow,"  said  the  porter,  with  an  air  of  vanity  ;  "  and  I  cannot  put  out 
women's  eyes  in  order  to  keep  their  hearts  at  ease." 

And  the  two  worthies  entered  the  sacristy. 

The  sight  of  this  funeral  had  added  to  Francoise's  melancholy. 

When  she  entered  the  church,  seven  or  eight  persons,  sitting  on 
chairs  in  different  parts,  were  the  only  congregation  in  this  damp  and 
chilling  edifice. 

One  of  the  givers  of  holy  water,  a  curious  old  man,  with  a  red  face 
bespeaking  a  love  of  wine  and  wassail,  seeing  Francoise  come  to  the 
benitier,  said  to  her  in  a  low  voice, 

"  M.  the  Abbe  Dubois  is  not  yet  in  the  confessional  (en  botte), 
make  haste,  and  you  will  be  first  (vous  avrez  Vetrenne  de  se  barbe). 

Francoise,  pained  at  this  joke,  thanked  the  irreverend  sacristan, 
crossed  herself  devoutly,  went  a  few  steps  forward,  and  then  fell  on 
her  knees  on  a  step  to  say  the  prayer  which  she  always  offered  up 
before  she  approached  the  confessional  chair. 

Having  said  this  prayer  she  went  forward  to  a  dark  corner,  where 
there  was  in  the  shadow  a  confessional,  with  the  door  half  open,  and 
having  within  a  black  curtain.  The  two  places  right  and  left  were 
vacant,  and  Francoise,  kneeling  down  on  the  right  side,  remained  for 
some  time  plunged  in  the  most  bitter  reflections. 

After  some  minutes,  a  priest  of  tall  stature,  with  grey  hair,  a 
grave  and  severe  countenance,  and  wearing  a  long  black  cassock, 
advanced  slowly  from  the  end  of  one  of  the  aisles  of  the  church. 

A  little  old  man,  who  stooped  a  good  deal,  was  shabbily  dressed, 
and  leaned  on  an  umbrella,  accompanied  him,  speaking  to  him  at 
times  in  low  whispers,  and  then  the  priest  paused  and  listened  to  him 
with  profound  and  respectful  deference. 

As  they  approached  the  confessional,  the  little  old  man,  seeing 
Francoise  on  her  knees,  looked  inquisitively  at  the  priest. 

"  'Tis  she,"  said  he. 

"  Then,  in  two  or  three  hours,  we  shall  expect  the  two  young 
girls  at  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie — on  that  I  rely,"  said  the  little 
old  man. 

"  I  hope  so,  for  their  salvation's  sake,"  said  the  priest  in  a  serious 
tone,  and  bowing.  He  then  entered  the  confessional. 

The  little  old  man  left  the  church.  This  little  old  man  was 
Rodin  ;  and  on  leaving  Saint-Merry  he  went  to  the  Maison  de  Santt, 
in  order  to  learn  whether  Dr.  Baleinier  had  faithfully  fulfilled  his  in- 
structions with  regard  to  Adrienne  de  Cardoville. 

Francoise  was  still  kneeling  in  the  interior  of  the  confessional, 
when  one  of  the  side-windows  opened  and  a  voice  spake.  It  was  the 
voice  of  the  priest,  who  for  twenty  years  had  confessed  Dagobort's 
wife,  and  had  an  irresistible  and  all-powerful  influence  over  her. 

"  You  received  my  letter  ?"  said  the  voice. 

"  Yes,  holy  father." 

"  Good :  I  listen  to  you." 


342  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"Bless me,  holy  father,  for  I  have  sinned!"  said  Francoise. 

The  voice  pronounced  the  formula  of  benediction. 

Dagobert's  wife  replied  Amen,  as  it  was  right  she  should  ;  said  her 
confiteor  as  far  as  "  It  is  my  fault ;"  gave  an  account  of  the  way  in 
which  she  had  performed  her  last  penitence ;  and  came  then  to  the 
enumeration  of  the  fresh  sins  committed  since  she  had  last  received 
absolution. 

This  excellent  woman,  this  real  martyr  of  labour  and  maternal 
love,  believed  she  was  always  sinning ;  her  conscience  was  incessantly 
tormented  by  the  fear  of  having  committed  a  quantity  of  indescribable 
peccadillos.  This  gentle  and  courageous  creature,  who,  after  a  life  of 
entire  devotion,  ought  to  have  reposed  in  the  calm  and  serenity  of  her 
soul,  considered  herself  as  a  great  sinner,  and  lived  in  incessant  agony, 
doubtful  of  her  own  salvation. 

"  Father,"  said  Fran9oise,  in  a  tone  of  emotion,  "  I  accuse  myself 
of  not  having  said  my  evening  prayer  the  day  before  yesterday.  My 
husband,  from  whom  I  have  been  separated  for  many  years,  arrived, 
and  the  emotion,  the  excitement,  the  joy  of  his  return,  caused  me  to 
commit  this  great  sin  of  which  I  accuse  myself." 

"  Well  ? "  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  of  severity,  which  disquieted 
Francoise. 

"  Holy  father,  I  accuse  myself  of  having  fallen  into  the  same  sin 
yesterday  evening.  I  was  in  a  most  anxious  state ;  my  son  did  not 
return,  and  I  was  expecting  him  every  moment,  and  the  time  passed 
away  in  this  anxiety." 

"Well?  "said  the  voice. 

"  Holy  father,  I  accuse  myself  of  having  lied  all  the  week  to  my 
son,  by  telling  him,  when  replying  to  his  remarks  on  the  weakness  of 
my  health,  that  I  had  drank  some  wine  at  my  repast.  I  preferred 
leaving  it  for  him ;  he  has  more  need  of  it  than  I — he  works  so  hard." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Holy  father,  I  accuse  my  self  of  having  wan  ted  resignation  this  morn- 
ing, at  the  moment  when  I  learnt  that  my  poor  son  had  been  arrested ; 
instead  of  submitting,  with  respect  and  gratitude,  to  the  new  trial 
which  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  send  me,  alas !  I  was  rebellious  in  my 
grief,  and  I  accuse  myself  of  that." 

"A  bad  week!"  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  still  more  severe;  "a 
bad  week !  You  have  continually  set  the  creature  before  the  Creator. 
Go  on." 

"  Alas,  father  I "  said  Francoise,  overwhelmed  with  dismay,  "  I 
know  I  am  a  great  sinner,  and  I  am  fearful  of  being  in  the  way  to  still 
greater  sins." 

"  Speak." 

"  My  husband  has  brought  from  the  farthest  part  of  Siberia  two 
young  orphan  girls,  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon.  Yesterday  morning, 
when  I  told  them  to  say  their  prayers,  I  learnt  with  fright  and 
distress  that  they  knew  nothing  of  any  of  the  mysteries  of  the  faith, 
although  they  are  fifteen  years  old :  they  have  never  received  any 
sacrament,  not  even  that  of  baptism,  holy  father — not  even  baptism  !" 

"  Are  they  then  idolaters  ?"  exclaimed  the  voice,  in  accents  of  anger 
and  astonishment 


THE  CONFESSIONAL.  343 

"  It  is  that  which  distresses  me,  holy  father;  for  I  and  my  husband, 
supplying  the  place  of  parents  to  these  young  orphans,  should  be  guilty 
of  the  sins  they  commit, — shall  we  not,  holy  father?" 

••  Certainly  I  since  you  are  in  the  place  of  those  who  should 
watch  over  their  souls:  the  shepherd  is  answerable  for  his  sheep," 
said  the  voice. 

"  Then,  holy  father,  in  case  they  were  in  deadly  sin,  my  husband 
and  I  should  be  in  deadly  sin  ?" 

"  Assuredly,"  answered  the  voice,  "  you  stand  in  stead  of  father 
and  mother ;  and  the  father  and  mother  are  guilty  of  all  the  sins  which 
their  children  commit,  when  the  children  sin  because  they  have  not 
received  a  Christian  education." 

"  Alas,  holy  father  I  what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  address  myself  to  you, 
as  to  God.  Every  day,  every  hour,  that  these  poor  young  girls 
remain  in  idolatry,  they  incur  eternal  damnation  :  do  they  not,  holy 
father  ?"  said  Francoise,  in  tones  of  deep  tribulation. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  voice ;  "  and  this  terrible  responsibility  now 
weighs  heavily  on  you  and  your  husband :  you  have  the  charge  of 
their  souls." 

"  Alas  I  have  mercy  on  me,"  said  Fran9oise,  weeping. 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself  so  heavily,"  resumed  the  voice,  in  a 
gentler  tone ;  "  fortunately  for  these  unfortunate  children  they  have 
met  you  in  their  wanderings ;  they  will  have  in  you  and  your  hus- 
band, good  and  pious  examples :  for  your  husband,  bad  as  he  was  in 
former  times,  now,  I  suppose,  performs  all  the  proper  religious 
exercises  ?" 

"  We  must  pray  for  him,  holy  father,"  replied  Fran9oise,  sorrow- 
fully ;  "  grace  has  not  yet  touched  him.  He  is  like  a  poor  child  who 
is  not  yet  touched  by  it.  Ah,  holy  father !"  said  Francoise,  wiping 
her  eyes,  "  these  thoughts  are  my  heaviest  cross." 

"  Then  neither  your  husband  nor  your  son  communicate  (jora- 
tiquetU)"  said  the  voice,  in  a  tone  of  reflection  ;  "  this  is  serious — 
very  serious !  The  religious  education  of  these  two  unhappy  young 
girls  is  still  wholly  to  be  done.  They  will  have  at  your  abode,  at 
every  instant,  deplorable  examples  under  their  eyes.  Take  care,  I 
tell  you.  You  have  a  charge  of  souls.  Your  responsibility  is 
enormous." 

"  Oh,  holy  father  !  it  is  that  which  distresses  me  :  I  do  not  know 
what  to  do.  Come  to  my  aid — give  me  your  advice.  For  twenty 
years  your  voice  has  been  to  me  the  voice  of  the  Lord." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  come  to  an  understanding  with  your  hus- 
band, and  place  these  unhappy  girls  in  some  religious  house,  where 
they  will  receive  instruction." 

"  We  are  too  poor,  holy  father,  to  pay  their  board ;  and,  still  more 
unfortunate,  my  son  has  just  been  sent  to  prison  for  some  songs  he  has 
written." 

"  This  is  what  impiety  leads  to,"  said  the  voice,  in  a  severe  tone. 
"  Look  at  Gabriel,  who  has  followed  my  counsels,  and  at  this  hour  he 
is  a  model  of  all  Christian  virtues  I  " 

"My  son  Agricola  has  his  good  qualities,  holy  father:  he  is  so 
kind,  so  dutiful  I  " 

"  Without  religion,"  said  the  voice,  with  redoubled  severity,  "  what 


344  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

you  call  good  qualities  arc  but  vain  appearances :  at  the  least  breath 
of  wind  from  the  devil  they  disappear,  for  the  wicked  one  is  at  the 
bottom  of  every  soul  without  religion." 

"  Alas,  my  poor  boy  !  "  said  Francoise,  in  tears  ;  "  I  pray  every  day 
that  he  may  be  enlightened  to  the  true  faith  !  " 

"  I  have  always  told  you,"  replied  the  voice,  "  that  you  are  too 
weak  with  respect  to  him,  and  now  God  punishes  you  for  it.  You 
must  separate  from  this  irreligious  son,  and  not  encourage  his  impiety 
as  you  do  by  loving  him  as  you  do.  When  you  have  an  offending 
member,  saith  the  Holy  Scripture,  cut  it  off." 

"  Alas,  holy  father !  you  know  it  is  the  only  time  I  ever  disobeyed 
you ;  but  I  could  not  bring  my  mind  to  separate  from  my  child." 

"  Then  your  salvation  is  uncertain  ;  but  God  is  merciful !  Do  not 
fall  again  into  the  same  fault  with  respect  to  these  two  young  girls, 
whom  Providence  has  sent  to  you  that  they  may  be  saved  by  you 
from  eternal  damnation.  Take  care  that  they  are  not  plunged  into  it 
by  your  culpable  indifference." 

"  Alas,  holy  father !  I  have  wept  much  and  prayed  much  for 
them  ! " 

"  That  is  not  sufficient :  these  unhappy  girls  have  no  notion  of 
good  or  evil.  Their  souls  must  be  an  abyss  of  scandal  and  impurities, 
brought  up,  as  they  have  been,  by  an  impious  mother  and  an  unbe- 
lieving soldier." 

"  As  to  that,  holy  father,"  said  Francoise,  ingenuously,  "  do  not  be 
alarmed  :  they  are  as  gentle  as  angels  ;  and  my  husband,  who  has  not 
quitted  them  since  they  were  born,  says  their  hearts  are  beautifully 
inclined." 

"  Your  husband  has  spent  his  life  in  mortal  sin,"  said  the  voice, 
harshly  ;  "his  is  not  the  mind  to  judge  of  the  state  of  souls;  and  I 
repeat  to  you,  since  you  replace  the  parents  of  these  unfortunate  chil- 
dren, that  it  is  not  to-morrow,  but  to-day — this  very  hour — that  their 
salvation  must  be  worked  out,  or  else  you  incur  an  awful  respon- 
sibility." 

"  That  is  true ;  I  know  it  fully,  holy  father ;  and  this  fear  is  as 
heavy  on  me  as  the  knowledge  of  my  son's  arrest.  But  what  can  I 
do  ?  I  cannot,  ignorant  as  I  am,  instruct  these  young  girls  at  home. 
I  have  nothing  but  faith  ;  and  then  my  poor  husband,  in  his  blindness, 
jests  at  holy  things,  which  my  son  respects  in  my  presence,  out  of 
consideration  for  me.  Again,  holy  father,  I  conjure  you  to  help  me  ! 
Tell  me,  oh,  tell  me  what  to  do  !  " 

"We  must  not  abandon  to  all  perdition  two  young  souls,"  said  the 
voice,  after  a  moment's  silence ;  "  there  are  no  two  roads  to  salvation 
— there  is  but  one.  They  must  be  placed  in  a  religious  house,  where 
they  will  be  surrounded  by  none  but  holy  and  pious  examples." 

"  Ah,  holy  father !  if  we  were  not  so  poor,  or  if  even  I  could  work, 
I  would  endeavour  to  gain  wherewithal  to  pay  for  their  board,  and  do 
as  I  did  for  Gabriel.  Unfortunately,  ray  sight  is  quite  gone ;  but  I 
think,  holy  father,  you  must  know  so  many  charitable  souls  that  you 
could  interest  in  favour  of  these  two  poor  orphans." 

"  But  where  is  their  father?  " 

"  He  was  in  India ;  my  husband  told  me  that  he  expected  his 
arrival  ia  France  immediately,  but  nothing  is  certain.  And  then  again, 


THE  CONFESSIONAL.  345 

holy  father,  my  heart  would  bleed  to  see  these  poor  children  share  our 
misery ;  and  that  will  soon  be  very  great,  for  we  only  lived  on  the 
labour  of  my  son." 

"  Then  the  girls  ha*ve  no  relation  here  ?  "  inquired  the  voice. 

"  I  think  not,  father." 

"  And  it  was  their  mother  who  confided  them  to  your  husband,  to 
bring  to  France?  " 

"  Yes,  holy  father  ;  and  he  was  compelled  to  go  yesterday  to  Char- 
tres,  on  a  very  urgent  affair,  as  he  told  me." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Dagobert  had  not  thought  fit  to  tell 
his  wife  of  the  hopes  which  Marshal  Simon's  daughters  founded  on 
the  medal,  and  that  they  themselves  had  had  express  instructions  from 
the  soldier  not  to  speak  of  it  to  Fran<;oise. 

"  So  then,"  resumed  the  voice,  after  some  minutes'  silence,  "  your 
husband  is  not  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  No,  holy  father  ;  but  he  will  return  to-night  or  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Listen,"  said  the  voice,  after  another  pause  ;"  every  minute  lost 
in  the  salvation  of  these  young  girls  is  a  new  step  which  they  will  take 
towards  perdition.  At  any  moment  the  hand  of  God  may  weigh 
heavily  on  them,  for  He  only  knows  the  hour  of  our  death  !  And 
dying  in  their  present  state,  they  might  be  damned  to  all  eternity  I 
From  this  very  day,  therefore,  their  eyes  must  be  opened  to  the 
Divine  light,  and  they  must  instantly  be  taken  to  some  religious  house. 
Such  is  your  duty — such  should  be  your  desire  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  holy  father !  but,  unfortunately,  I  aui  too  poor,  as  I 
have  told  you." 

"  I  know  that  you  want  neither  zeal  nor  faith ;  but,  even  if  you 
were  capable  of  directing  these  young  girls,  the  impious  examples  of 
your  husband  and  son  would  daily  destroy  your  work.  Others,  there- 
fore, must  do  for  these  orphan  girls,  in  the  name  of  Christian  charity, 
what  you  cannot  do  —  you,  who  are  answerable  for  them  before 
God !  " 

"  Ah,  holy  father !  if,  thanks  to  you,  this  good  work  could  bo 
accomplished,  what  would  be  my  gratitude  I  " 

"  It  is  not  impossible :  I  am  acquainted  with  the  superior  of  a 
convent,  where  the  young  girls  would  be  educated  as  they  ought  to 
be.  The  usual  pension  would  be  diminished,  on  account  of  their 
poverty ;  but,  however  small  the  sum,  something  must  be  paid  with 
them.  They  would  also  require  to  be  fitted  out  with  suitable  clothing : 
that,  also,  would  be  out  of  your  power  to  provide?" 

"  Alas,  yes,  holy  father  I" 

"  Well,  by  drawing  upon  my  charity-box,  and  applying  to  certain 
benevolent  persons,  who  are  always  ready  to  assist  me  in  any  good 
work,  I  feel  assured  I  could  make  up  the  requisite  sum,  and  thus 
procure  the  admission  of  these  young  girls  into  the  convent." 

"  Oh,  reverend  father,  you  are  my  saviour,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
poor  children !  " 

"  I  wish  to  be  so ;  but  from  the  interest  I  take  in  their  welfare, 
and  in  order  to  render  my  exertions  still  more  efficacious,  I  must 
impose  several  conditions  to  the  assistance  I  offer  you." 


346  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Oh,  name  them,  holy  father !  and  be  assured  they  are  gratefully 
accepted  beforehand.  Your  commands  are  laws  to  me." 

"  In  the  first  place,  they  shall  be  taken  to  the  convent  this  very 
morning ;  you  shall  bring  them  to  my  housekeeper,  for  that  purpose, 
directly  you  return  home." 

"  Impossible,  reverend  father  I  "  exclaimed  Francoise. 

"  Why  impossible  ?  " 

"  Because  of  my  husband's  absence." 

<•  Well  I " 

"  I  dare  not  take  such  a  determination  without  consulting  him/' 

"  You  must  not  only  abstain  from  consulting  him,  but  select  the 
very  time  of  his  absence  for  doing  as  I  command  you." 

"  And  wherefore,  holy  father,  may  I  not  await  his  return  ?  " 

"  For  two  good  and  convincing  reasons,"  replied  the  voice,  in  a 
severe  tone ;  "  for  two  reasons  must  you  carefully  avoid  letting  him 
know  any  thing  of  the  matter :  and,  first,  because  his  hardened  impiety 
would  most  certainly  lead  him  to  oppose  your  wise  and  pious  resolu- 
tion ;  and  secondly,  because  it  being  indispensable  to  the  good  work 
that  these  young  girls  should  hold  no  further  communion  with  your 
husband,  it  is  essential  that  he  should  be  kept  in  utter  ignorance  of  the 
place  of  their  retreat." 

"  But,  holy  father,"  replied  Francoise,  a  prey  to  the  most  cruel 
and  conflicting  emotions,  "  these  children  were  confided  to  the  especial 
care  of  my  husband :  how  can  I  presume  to  dispose  of  them  without 
his  knowledge  ?  It  would  be " 

Here  the  voice  interrupted  Francoise  by  asking,  angrily, 

"  Can  you  or  can  you  not  instruct  these  young  people,  if  they 
remain  with  you  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no,  reverend  father !  I  have  not  the  power." 

"  Would  they  or  would  they  not  be  exposed  to  a  continued  state  of 
ignorance  and  impenitence  if  they  continued  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  holy  father,  they  certainly  would  !  " 

"  And  are  you  or  are  you  not  responsible,  in  the  sight  of  God,  for 
all  the  sins  they  may  commit,  having  taken  upon  yourselves  the  place 
of  parents  towards  them  ?  " 

"  I  am,  with  my  husband,  accountable  to  heaven  for  their  sins 
upon  earth,  and  eternal  punishment  if  we  allow  them  to  continue  in 
sin." 

"  And  do  you  or  do  you  not  believe  it  is  to  promote  their  eternal 
salvation  that  I  enjoin  you  to  place  them  in  a  convent  this  very 
day  ?  " 

"  I  firmly  believe  it  to  be  for  the  preservation  of  their  immortal 
souls." 

"  Then  it  is  for  you  to  decide." 

"  Father,  I  beseech,  I  implore  you  to  tell  me  truly,  have  I  the 
right  to  dispose  of  these  poor  children  without  the  consent  of  my 
husband  ?  " 

"  The  right !  this  is  no  question  of  right :  it  involves  a  sacred 
duty.  Would  it  not  be  your  duty  to  pluck  these  unfortunate  girls 
from  the  midst  of  a  burning  fire,  even  against  the  express  prohibition 
of  your  husband,  or  during  his  absence  ?  Well,  then,  you  are  now 


THE  CONFESSIONAL.  847 

called  upon  to  snatch  them  from  flames,  not  such  as  would  consume 
their  mortal  frame,  but  from  that  fire  which  never  dieth,  and  which 
cannot  be  extinguished  through  all  eternity  !  " 

"  Pardon,  oh  pardon  me,  holy  father !  I  humbly  supplicate,  I 
entreat  I  "  cried  the  unhappy  woman,  whose  mind  was  like  a  troubled 
sea  of  fearful  uncertainty  and  apprehension  of  doing  wrong.  "  Oh  tell 
me,  can  I  act  thus  after  having  so  solemnly  vowed  obedience  to  my 
husband  ?  " 

"  Your  obedience  was  vowed  to  all  good  and  just  deeds,  not  evil 
works ;  and  you  yourself  admit  that,  if  left  to  him,  the  salvation  of 
these  orphans  would  be  endangered,  if  not  rendered  absolutely  in> 
possible." 

"  But,  reverend  father,"  said  Francoise,  trembling,  "  when,  upon 
his  return,  my  husband  shall  ask  where  I  have  placed  the  children, 
must  I  answer  him  with  a  lie  ?  " 

"  Silence  is  not  falsehood,  and  you  may  tell  him  you  are  not  at 
liberty  to  reply  to  his  question." 

"  My  husband  is  one  of  fce  best  of  men  ;  but  such  a  reply  would 
enrage  him :  he  has  been  a  soldier,  and  his  anger  would  be  fearful, 
holy  father !  "  cried  Fran9oise,  shuddering  at  the  very  idea  of  the 
storm  she  had  conjured  up. 

"  And,  were  his  anger  a  hundred  times  more  terrible,  you  should 
not  hesitate  to  dare  it,  and  glorify  yourself  for  suffering  in  such  a 
cause,"  exclaimed  the  voice,  indignantly.  "  Think  you  that  it  is  so 
easy  to  work  out  our  salvation  on  this  earth  ?  Should  the  repentant 
sinner,  who  ardently  desires  to  serve  his  Lord,  complain  of  the  stones 
which  bruise  his  feet,  or  the  thorns  which  lacerate  his  flesh  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  holy  father,  pardon  I  "  said  Francoise,  with  a  subdued 
spirit ;  "  deign  but  to  answer  one  question — one  only.  Alas !  if  you 
do  not  guide  me,  to  whom  can  I  turn  ?  " 

"  Speak  I " 

"  When  Marshal  Simon  arrives,  he  will  demand  his  daughters  of 
my  husband  :  what  answer  can  he  make  to  such  a  natural  inquiry  ?  " 

"  You  will  let  me  know  directly  Marshal  Simon  arrives,  and  then 
I  will  instruct  you  how  to  act ;  for  the  rights  of  a  parent  are  only 
sacred  so  long  as  he  employs  his  power  for  the  salvation  of  his  children. 
Above  the  earthly  parent,  and  before  his  claims,  comes  the  Heavenly 
Father,  who  must  first  be  served  and  obeyed.  Reflect  well,  then,  ere 
you  decide ;  by  accepting  what  I  propose,  these  young  girls  will  be 
rescued  from  perdition — you  will  be  freed  from  all  expense  in  main- 
taining them — they  will  not  be  involved  in  your  present  distress- — and, 
above  all,  they  will  be  educated  in  a  holy  mansion  becoming  their 
station  as  the  daughters  of  a  mart-dial  due  de  France :  so  that,  upon 
thoir  father's  arrival  in  Paris,  if  lie  be  worthy  of  seeing  them  again, 
instead  of  finding  them  poor,  half-ignorant  savages — mere  idolaters — 
he  will  receive  the  delight  of  meeting  two  modest,  pious,  well-informed, 
well-conducted  young  persons,  who,  having  obtained  favour  in  the 
sight  of  God,  may  invoke  His  mercy  and  grace  for  their  father,  who 
stands  sorely  in  need  of  it,  being,  as  he  is,  a  man  of  violence,  of  war, 
and  of  battle.  Now,  then,  decide  finally:  will  you,  at  the  peril  of 
your  soul,  sacrifice  the  welfare  of  these  young  girls,  both  in  this  world 


348  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  in  that  which  is  to  come,  from  a  weak  and  impious  dread  of  the 
anger  of  your  husband  ?  " 

However  harsh  and  marked  witli  intolerance  might  bo  the  language 
employed  by  Framboise's  confessor,  it  was  still  what  the  honest  and 
sincerely  zealous  man  believed,  according  to  his  view  of  the  case,  only 
reasonable  and  just.  The  blind  instrument  of  Rodin,  and  utterly  igno- 
rant of  the  motives  which  instigated  others,  he  firmly  believed  that, 
while  in  a  manner  forcing  Francoise  to  place  these  poor  children  in  a 
convent,  he  was  only  fulfilling  a  pious  and  sacred  duty. 

Such  was,  and  still  is,  one  of  the  marvellous  resources  of  the  Order 
to  which  Rodin  belonged — the  obtaining  men  of  upright  character  and 
sincere  integrity  as  confederates  in  schemes  whose  villany  they  never 
suspected,  while  acting,  though  unconsciously,  the  most  important  pait 
in  the  dark  machinations. 

Fran9oise,  for  many  years  accustomed  to  yield  the  most  implicit 
obedience  to  her  confessor,  knew  not  what  to  reply  to  his  last  words  ; 
but  her  understanding,  though  unconvinced,  furnished  no  suitable 
argument ;  and  she  therefore  laid  asidfe  all  further  opposition,  even 
while  shuddering  at  the  bare  anticipation  of  Dagobert's  furious  rage  at 
the  loss  of  those  children  a  dying  mother  had  committed  to  his  charge. 
Now,  according  to  her  confessor,  the  greater  her  dread  of  the  conse- 
quences of  Dagobert's  violent  anger,  the  greater  should  be  her  humility 
and  submission  to  all  that  might  befall  her.  She  therefore  replied 
only, — 

"  The  will  of  God  be  done,  holy  father !  And  whatever  may  hap- 
pen, I  will  discharge  the  duty  of  a  good  Christian,  according  to  your 
directions  ! " 

"  And,  be  assured,  the  Lord  will  be  pleased  to  accept  of  all  you  may 
have  to  endure  in  the  performance  of  this  duty  as  a  humble  sacrifice  of 
yourself  to  His  service.  You  must  now  solemnly  vow,  in  the  presence 
of  God,  to  answer  no  question  your  husband  may  put  to  you  concern- 
ing the  daughters  of  General  Simon." 

"I  solemnly  promise!"  answered  Francoise,  with  a  convulsive 
shudder. 

"  And  you  must  also  engage  to  maintain  the  same  silence  towards 
General  Simon,  in  the  event  of  his  returning  before  I  shall  consider  his 
daughters  sufficiently  established  in  the  right  road  to  be  given  up  to 
him." 

"  I  promise,  holy  father ! "  replied  Francoise,  in  a  voice  of  increasing 
feebleness. 

"  You  will  come  to  relate  to  me  every  particular  of  the  scene  which 
ensues  upon  your  husband's  return  ?  " 

"  I  will,  holy  father !  When  shall  I  take  the  orphans  to  your 
house  ?  " 

"  In  an  hour's  time.  I  will  now  go  and  write  to  the  superior  of  the 
convent  I  mentioned  to  you.  I  will  leave  the  letter  with  my  house- 
keeper, who  is  a  very  trustworthy  person,  and  will  conduct  the  young 

girls  herself  to  the  convent." 

****** 

After  having  listened  to  the  exhortations  of  her  confessor  as  to  her 
past  misdoings,  received  absolution,  accompanied  by  adequate  penance 


THE  CONFESSIONAL.  349 

enjoining  strict  self-denial,  &c.,  the  wife  of  Dagobert  quitted  the  con- 
fessional. 

The  church  was  no  longer  deserted.  An  immense  crowd  was  as- 
sembled, attracted  by  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of  the  funeral  of 
which  the  porter  had  been  talking  to  the  beadle  two  hours  ago. 

It  was  with  much  difficulty  Francoise  managed  to  reach  the  doors 
of  the  church,  sumptuously  hung  with  richly-ornamented  draperies. 

What  a  contrast  did  it  present  to  the  humble  train  that  had  so 
timidly  crept  under  the  same  porch  only  two  short  hours  ago ! 

The  numerous  ministers  of  the  parish  assembled  together  advanced 
majestically  along  to  receive  the  coffin,  covered  with  its  velvet  pall, 
while  the  rich  silk  of  their  copes  and  stoles,  glittering  with  silver 
embroidery,  sparkled  and  shone  brightly  in  the  blaze  of  the  numerous 
wax  tapers. 

The  porter,  adorned  with  his  full-dress  livery,  and  the  beadle,  hold- 
ing his  staff  of  authority,  stood  opposite  each  other,  fully  impressed 
with  their  own  important  parts  in  the  pageant  then  being  enacted ;  the 
choristers,  robed  in  snowy  white  garments,  sang  their  loudest,  sweetest 
strains  in  honour  of  the  rich  man's  obsequies ;  the  full  peal  of  the 
organ  resounded  through  the  building ;  even  the  windows  vibrated  as 
the  burst  of  funereal  harmony  floated  along  the  sacred  pile.  Each  per- 
son appointed  to  share  in  these  demonstrations  of  regard  for  the  good, 
the  rich  deceased — whose  funeral  was  so  very  superior  and  distingue, 
seemed  elate  with  satisfaction  at  making  one  in  an  affair  where  no  expense 
had  been  spared.  And  this  complacency  of  feeling  was  still  further 
manifested  in  the  pleased  and  contented  countenances  of  the  heirs,  two 
healthy-looking,  robust  men,  who,  while  carefully  preserving  that 
modest  dejection  and  prescribed  composure  of  feature,  were  evidently 
indulging  their  own  bright  anticipations  of  the  future ;  and,  beneath 
their  long,  sable  garments  of  woe,  revelling  in  many  a  pleasing  scheme 
for  days  to  come,  now  such  wealth  would  be  theirs. 

Spite  of  her  pure  and  simple  faith,  the  wife  of  Dagobert  was  pain- 
fully struck  with  the  revolting  difference  observed  in  the  reception  of 
the  coffin  of  the  rich  man  compared  with  that  of  the  poor,  and  that  at 
the  door  of  the  house  of  God  !  For,  whatever  worldly  distinctions  may 
exist,  surely  death  and  eternity  make  all  men  equal ! 

The  two  painful  spectacles  Francoise  had  witnessed,  and  which 
called  forth  these  reflections,  did  not  tend  to  lessen  the  depression  of 
her  spirits ;  and  having  with  some  difficulty  quitted  the  church,  she 
quickened  her  steps  towards  the  Rue  Brise-Michc,  in  order  to  conduct 
the  orphans  to  the  house  of  her  confessor,  whose  housekeeper  was  to 
convey  them  to  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  situated,  as  the  reader 
is  aware,  adjoining  the  madhouse  of  Dr.  Baleinier,  where  Adriennc 
de  Cardoville  was  confined. 


350  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER  L. 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILL-JOY. 

DAGOBERT'S  wife,  on  leaving  the  church,  had  reached  the  entrance 
to  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  when  she  was  overtaken  by  the  giver  of  the 
holy  water ;  who  had  ran  after  her,  until  out  of  breath,  to  beg  her  to 
return  immediately  to  Saint-Merry,  as  the  Abbe  Dubois  had  some- 
thing most  important  to  say  to  her. 

At  the  moment  that  Fran9oise  retraced  her  steps,  a  hackney-coach 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  house  which  she  inhabited. 

The  coachman  descended  from  his  box  and  opened  the  coach- 
door. 

"  Coachman,"  said  a  stout  female  clothed  in  black,  who  was 
seated  in  this  carriage,  and  had  a  pug-dog  on  her  knees,  "  inquire  if 
Madame  Fran9oise  Baudoin  lives  here." 

"  Yes,  mistress,"  said  the  coachman. 

Our  readers  no  doubt  have  recognised  Madame  Grivois,  first  lady- 
in-waiting  to  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier,  accompanied  by  Monsieur, 
who  exercised  supreme  tyranny  over  his  mistress. 

The  dyer,  whom  we  have  already  seen  discharging  the  functions 
of  porter,  being  asked  by  the  coachman  as  to  Fran^oise's  residence, 
left  his  workshop  and  came  politely  to  the  coach-door  to  reply  to 
Madame  Grivois,  that  Fran9oise  Baudoin  lived  in  the  house,  but 
had  not  returned  home. 

Father  Lorrain's  arms,  hands,  and  a  part  of  his  face,  were  of  a 
splendid  gold  colour.  The  sight  of  this  personage,  all  covered  with 
yellow  ochre,  offended  and  irritated  Monsieur ;  and,  at  the  moment 
when  the  dyer  placed  his  hand  on  the  ridge  of  the  coach-door,  the  pug 
gave  a  snappish  bark  and  bit  him  in  the  wrist. 

"  Ah!"  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  in  an  agony,  whilst  Father 
Lorrain  withdrew  his  hand  hastily.  "  I  trust  there  is  nothing  poison- 
ous in  the  dye  you  have  on  your  hand — my  dog  is  so  very  delicate." 

And  she  carefully  wiped  the  flat  muzzle  of  Monsieur,  which  was 
in  places  stained  with  yellow. 

Father  Lorrain.  who  was  but  ill  satisfied  with  the  apologies  which 
he  expected  from  Madame  Grivois  in  consequence  of  the  bad  conduct 
of  her  pet  cur,  could  hardly  repress  his  anger. 

"  Madame,  if  you  did  not  belong  to  the  softer  sex,  who  always 
have  my  utmost  respect,  and  which  I  therefore  now  extend  to  this 
beastly  cur,  I  would,  most  assuredly,  take  him  by  the  tail,  and  in  one 
moment  transform  him  into  an  orange-coloured  pug,  by  dipping  him 
into  my  dying  vat,  which  is  at  this  moment  ready." 

"  Dye  my  dog  orange  colour  I "  shrieked  out  Madame  Grivois, 
who  in  excessive  rage  alighted  from  the  coach,  hugging  Monsieur 
tenderly  to  her  bosom,  and  looking  at  Father  Lorrain  with  an  angry 
glance. 

"  Madame,  I  have  told  you  that  Madame   Francoise  was  not 


TI1E     VISIT    TO    MADAME    BAUDO1N. 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILL-JOY.  351 

within,"  said  the  dyer,  seeing  the  mistress  of  the  surly  pug  about  to 
ascend  the  dark  staircase. 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  will  wait  for  her,"  said  Madame  Grivois 
dryly  ;  "  on  what  staircase  does  she  live  ?" 

"  On  the  fourth,"  said  Father  Lorrain,  returning  abruptly  to  his 
shop.  And  he  said  to  himself,  smiling  complacently  at  the  mischievous 
idea,  "  I  hope  that  Father  Dagobert's  great  dog  will  be  in  an  ill 
humour,  and  that  he  will  seize  this  nasty  brute  by  the  scuff  of  his  neck, 
and  rather  astonish  his  delicate  feelings." 

Madame  Grivois  went  up  the  rugged  staircase  with  considerable 
difficulty  ;  stopping  at  each  story  to  take  breath,  and  looking  around 
her  with  exceeding  disgust.  At  last  she  reached  the  fourth  flight, 
stopped  a  moment,  and  then  entered  the  humble  chamber  in  which 
were  the  two  sisters  and  La  Mayeux. 

The  young  work-girl  was  occupied  in  getting  together  the  different 
things  she  was  to  take  to  the  Mont  de  PietS. 

Rose  and  Blanche  seemed  very  happy,  and  somewhat  re -assured 
as  to  the  future,  for  they  had  learned  from  La  Mayeux  that  they 
might,  if  they  worked  hard,  and  they  could  sew,  gain  between  the  two 
eight  francs  a  week — a  small  sum,  which  was  at  least  a  resource  for  a 
family. 

The  presence  of  Madame  Grivois  at  Fran9oise  Baudoin's  was 
caused  by  a  new  determination  of  the  Abbe  d' Aigrigny  and  the  Princess 
de  Saint-Dizier,  who  had  judged  it  more  prudent  to  send  Madame 
Giivois,  on  whom  they  blindly  confided,  to  go  after  the  young  girls  at 
Francoise's ;  she  (Francoise)  being  informed  by  her  confessor  that  it 
was  not  to  his%ousekeeper,  but  to  a  lady  who  would  come  with  a 
message  from  him,  that  the  young  girls  were  to  be  entrusted  and  con- 
veyed to  a  religious  house. 

After  having  knocked,  the  confidential  maid  of  the  Princess  de 
Saint-Dizier  entered,  and  inquired  for  Fran9oise  Baudoin. 

"  She  is  not  here,  madarne,"  said  La  Mayeux,  timidly,  much 
astonished  at  such  a  visit,  and  lowering  her  eyes  before  the  look  of  this 
woman. 

"  Then  I  will  wait  for  her,  for  I  wish  to  speak  to  her  on  very 
particular  business,"  replied  Madame  Grivois,  looking  scrutinisingly 
and  with  curiosity  at  the  faces  of  the  two  orphans ;  who,  much 
abashed,  also  cast  their  eyes  on  the  ground. 

Having  spoken,  Madame  Grivois  seated  herself,  not  without  some 
repugnance,  in  the  old  arm-chair  belonging  to  Dagobert's  wife ;  and 
thinking  she  might  then  let  Monsieur  be  at  liberty,  she  placed  him 
carefully  on  the  floor. 

At  that  moment  a  sort  of  low,  deep,  hollow  note  was  heard  behind 
the  arm-chair,  which  made  Madame  Grivois  start ;  and  the  pug  uttered 
a  cry  of  terror,  which  made  his  very  fat  sides  shiver,  and  he  ensconced 
himself  near  his  mistress  with  every  symptom  of  angry  fear. 

"  What  I  is  there  a  dog  here  ?"  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  who 
stooped  and  took  Monsieur  up  in  her  arms  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Kill-joy,  as  if  he  was  desirous  of  replying  to  the  question  himself, 
rose  slowly  from  behind  the  chair  where  he  had  been  lying  down  and 
shewed  himself,  yawning  and  stretching  his  full  length. 

At  the  sight  of  this  powerful  animal,  and  his  two  rows  of  sharp 


352  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  formidable  fangs,  which  he  complaisantly  shewed  by  opening  his 
wide  throat  to  the  utmost,  Madame  Grivois  could  not  restrain  a  cry 
of  affright.  The  ugly  pug  had  at  first  trembled  in  every  joint  when 
he  found  himself  confronted  by  Kill-joy,  but,  once  in  safety  on  his 
mistress's  knees,  he  began  to  growl  impertinently,  and  to  cast  at  the 
Siberian  dog  most  provoking  looks:  but  the  worthy  companion  of  the 
deceased  Jovial  replied  disdainfully  by  a  fresh  yawn,  after  which, 
sniffing  the  clothes  of  Madame  Grivois  with  a  kind  of  uneasy  air,  he 
went  and  stretched  himself  out  at  the  feet  of  Rose  and  Blanche,  on 
whom  he  fixed  his  large  intelligent  eyes  as  if  he  anticipated  that  some 
danger  threatened  them. 

"  Turn  the  dog  out  from  here ! "  said  Madame  Grivois,  in  an  im- 
perative tone  ;  "  he  frightens  mine,  and  may  do  him  some  harm." 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  madame,"  replied  Rose,  smiling  ;  "  Kill-joy 
is  never  naughty  unless  he  is  attacked." 

"  No  matter,"  said  Madame  Grivois ;  "a  misfortune  soon  happens. 
To  look  at  that  enormous  dog  with  his  wolf's  head  and  his  horrid 
teeth,  makes  one  tremble  for  what  may  happen.  I  tell  you  to  turn 
him  out !" 

Madame  Grivois  had  pronounced  these  last  words  in  an  angry 
voice,  whose  tenor  sounded  ill  in  the  ears  of  Kill-joy,  who  growled, 
shewed  his  teeth,  and  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of  this  woman, 
whom  he  did  not  know. 

"  Be  quiet,  Kill-joy  I"  said  Blanche,  in  an  angry  tone. 

A  person  now  entered  the  room  who  put  an  end  to  this  posture  of 
affairs,  which  were  very  embarrassing  to  the  two  girls.  This  in- 
dividual was  a  messenger,  who  held  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure,  sir?"  inquired  La  Mayeux. 

"  I  have  a  letter  in  very  great  haste  from  a  worthy  man,  the  hus- 
band of  the  mistress  here ;  the  dyer  down  stairs  desired  me  to  bring  it 
up,  although  she  is  not  at  home." 

"  A  letter  from  Dagobert !"  exclaimed  Rose  and  Blanche,  with 
much  joy.  "  What !  has  he  returned  ?  where  is  he  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  if  the  worthy  gentleman's  name  is  Dagobert," 
said  the  messenger ;  "  but  he  is  an  old  trooper  who  is  decorated  with 
gray  moustachios — he  is  not  two  steps  off,  at  the  office  of  the  coaches 
for  Chartres." 

"  Yes,  that  is  he !"  said  Blanche  ;  "  give  me  the  letter." 

The  messenger  handed  the  letter,  and  the  young  girl  opened  it 
hastily. 

Madame  Grivois  was  thunderstruck  ;  she  knew  that  Dagobert  had 
been  sent  away  in  order  that  the  Abbe  Dubois  might  the  easier 
influence  Fran^oise :  so  far  all  had  succeeded,  and  the  latter  had 
agreed  to  confide  the  two  young  girls  to  religious  hands :  but  at  this 
very  moment  the  soldier  arrived,  he  whom  they  believed  absent  from 
Paris  for  two  or  three  days ;  and  thus  his  sudden  return  would  ruin 
the  laborious  machination,  at  the  very  moment  when  they  believed 
they  were  about  to  reap  the  fruit  of  it ! 

"  Ah ! "  said  Rose,  after  having  perused  the  letter,  "  what  a 
misfortune  I " 

"What,  sister?"  asked  Blanche. 

"  Yesterday,  when  half  way  on  his  road  Chartres,  Dagobert  dis- 


MONSIEUR  AND  KILL-JOY.  353 

covered  that  he  had  lost-  his  purse.  lie  could  not  continue  his 
journey,  but  obtained  credit  lor  a  place  back  again  ;  and  he  now  begs 
Ins  wife  to  send  him  money  to  the  oHicc  of  the  diligence,  where  he  is 
waiting." 

"  Yes,  that's  all  about  it,"  said  the  commissioner ;  "  for  the  worthy 
man  told  me, — '  Make  haste,  my  lad,  for  here  you  see  I  am  in 
pawn.' " 

"  And  nothing — nothing  in  the  house  !"  said  Blanche.  "  Oh  1  what 
shall  we  do  ?" 

At  thes"e  words  Madame  Grivois  had  a  moment's  hope,  but  it  was 
soon  damped  by  La  Mayeux,  who  suddenly  said,  pointing  to  the 
bundle  she  was  collecting  : 

"  Make  yourselves  easy,  young  ladies  ;  we  have  a  resource  in  the 
Mont  de  PiC't6,  which  is  not  far  distant,  and  where  I  will  carry  this. 
I  shall  get  the  money,  and  I  will  take  it  directly  to  M.  Dagobert,  and 
he  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour  at  furthest." 

"  Ah,  dear  Mayeux  I  you  are  right,"  said  Rose  ;  "  how  good  you 
arc !  you  think  of  every  thing." 

"  Here,"  added  Blanche,  "  the  address  is  on  the  messenger's  letter » 
take  it." 

"  Thanks,  mademoiselle,"  replied  La  Mayenx :  and  then  she  said 
to  the  messenger,  "  Return  to  the  person  who  sent  you,  and  tell  him 
that  I  will  be  with  him  at  the  coach-office  in  a  very  short  time." 

"Infernal  humpback!"  thought  Madame  Grivois,  with  concen* 
tratcd  rage :  "  she  thinks  of  every  thing ;  but  for  her  we  should  have 
avoided  the  unlooked-for  return  of  this  confounded  man.  What  is  to 
be  done  now?  the  young  girls  will  not  go  with  me  before  the  soldier's 
wife  returns,  and  to  propose  to  take  them  away  would  be  to  incur 
certain  refusal  and  tNi/iie  certain  suspicion.  Oh  1  what  is  to  be  done 
for  the  best  ?  " 

u  Do  not  be  uneasy,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  messenger  as  he  went 
away.  "  I  will  give  your  message  to  the  worthy  man,  and  inform  him 
that  he  will  not  have  long  to  wait  at  the  office." 

"Whilst  La  Mayeux  was  employed  in  making  up  her  packet,  and 
putting  the  silver  cup,  and  spoon,  and  fork,  in  it,  Madame  Grivois  was 
lost  in  reflection.  All  at  once  she  started  ;  her  countenance,  which 
for  some  time  had  been  overcast,  disturbed,  and  disquieted,  became 
brightened,  and  she  rose,  still  holding  Monsieur  in  her  arms,  and  said 
to  the  young  girls, 

"  Since  Madame  Franroise  does  not  return,  I  will  pay  a  visit 
close  by :  I  shall  soon  return.  You  will  be  so  good  as  to  say  so  to 
her." 

So  saying,  Madame  Grivois  went  away  a  few  minutes  before  La 
Mayeux. 


AA 


854  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


CHAPTER    LI. 


APPEARANCES. 

AFTER  having  bid  the  two  orphans  to  take  courage,  La  Mayeux 
went  down  the  stairs,  but  with  some  difficulty,  for  she  had  first  gone 
to  her  own  chamber,  in  order  to  add  to  the  bundle,  already  heavy, 
a  woollen  counterpane,  the  only  one  she  possessed,  and  which  pro- 
tected her  a  little  from  the  cold  in  her  miserable  apartment. 

The  night  before,  overcome  by  her  uneasiness  on  Agricola's 
behalf,  the  young  girl  could  not  work ;  the  pangs  of  expectation,  hope, 
and  anxiety,  had  prevented  her,  and  her  day  was  lost.  Still  she  must 
live. 

The  overwhelming  troubles  which  break  down  the  poor,  even  to 
the  deprivation  of  their  power  to  work,  are  doubly  terrible :  they 
paralyse  the  strength,  and  with  the  relaxation  from  work  which  pain 
imposes  come  destitution  and  distress. 

But  La  Mayeux,  the  perfect  and  touching  type  of  holy  duly,  had 
still  to  devote  herself  to  being  useful,  and  she  had  strength  for  that. 
The  most  frail  and  weak  creatures  are  occasionally  endued  with 
extraordinary  vigour  of  soul,  and  it  might  be  said,  that  with  feeble 
and  debilitated  constitutions  the  mind  is  so  far  superior  to  the  body  as 
to  impose  on  it  factitious  energy. 

Thus  La  Mayeux  for  four-and-twenty  hours  had  neither  eaten  nor 
slept,  and  had  suffered  all  the  cold  of  a  freezing  night.  In  the 
morning  she  had  undergone  violent  fatigue  in  traversing  Paris  twice 
through  snow  and  sleet,  to  go  to  the  Rue  de  Baby  lone,  and  yet  her 
strength  was  not  exhausted  :  so  vast  is  the  power  of  the  heart. 

La  Mayeux  had  reached  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Saint-Merry. 

Since  the  recent  conspiracy  in  the  Rue  des  Prouvaires  there  had 
been  a  great  number  of  additional  agents  of  police  and  sergens-de- 
ville  stationed  in  this  district. 

The  young  workwoman,  although  bending  beneath  the  weight  of 
her  bundle,  ran  quickly  along  the  pathway  ;  and  at  the  instant  when 
she  passed  close  to  a  sergent-de-ville,  two  five-franc  pieces  fell  behind 
her,  dropped  by  a  large  woman,  clothed  in  black,  who  followed  her. 

The  stout  woman  then  pointed  out  to  the  sergent-de-ville  the  two 
pieces  of  money  which  had  fallen,  and  said  in  a  quick  tone  a  few  words, 
pointing  towards  La  Mayeux. 

This  woman  then  disappeared,  at  a  quick  pace,  in  the  direction  of 
the  Rue  Brise-Miche. 

The  sergent-de-ville,  struck  with  what  Madame  Grivois  had  said 
to  him  (for  it  was  she),  picked  up  the  money,  and  running  after  La 
Mayeux,  exclaimed, 

"  Holla,  holla,  you,  there  I     Stop  ! — stop  that  woman  1" 

At  these  cries  several  persons  turned  round  quickly,  and  in  these 
quarters  a  knot  of  five  or  six  people  soon  assemble,  and  increase  in  a 
minute  or  two  to  a  considerable  mob. 


APPEARANCES.  355 

Ignorant  that  the  call  of  the  sergent-de-ville  was  directed  to  her, 
La  Mayeux  hurried  onwards,  only  thinking  of  reaching  the  Mont  de 
Piete  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  endeavouring  to  pass  through  the 
throng  without  jostling  anybody,  so  much  did  she  dread  the  brutal  and 
cruel  jests  which  her  infirmity  so  often  excited. 

Suddenly  she  heard  several  persons  running  behind  her,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  hand  was  rudely  laid  on  her  shoulder. 

It  was  the  sergent-de-ville,  followed  by  a  police-agent,  who  came 
ii])  at  the  noise. 

La  Mayeux,  equally  surprised  and  alarmed,  turned  round. 

She  found  herself  already  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  composed  of 
that  idle  and  ragged,  wretched,  and  insolent  mob,  brutalised  by 
ignorance  and  misery,  which  is  always  tramping  the  streets.  In  this 
assemblage  we  seldom  see  working  people,  for  they  are  usually  at  their 
shops  and  at  labour. 

"I  say,  why  don't  you  hear  them? — why,  you're  like  Jean 
d'Urville's  dog,"  said  the  police-agent,  seizing  La  Mayeux  so  rudely  by 
the  arm  that  she  dropped  her  bundle. 

When  the  unfortunate  girl,  looking  about  her,  saw,  with  horror, 
all  eyes  upon  her  with  insolent,  brutal,  and  insulting  glances — when 
she  saw  the  scowl  or  coarse  grin  on  all  these  low  and  ill-cast  coun- 
tenances, she  turned  deathly  pale. 

The  police-'sergeant  spoke  roughly  ;  but  how  could  he  be  expected 
to  ?peak  otherwise  to  a  poor,  pale,  terrified,  and  deformed  object, 
whose  countenance  was  convulsed  with  fear  and  grief,  whose  attire 
betokened  the  most  abject  poverty,  and  whose  wretched  cotton-gown 
was  drenched  with  wet,  and  heavy  with  mud  ?  for  long  and  wearisome 
had  been  the  poor  girl's  journeyings  during  the  hours  she  had  toiled  to 
obtain  news  of  Agricola.  Tims,  therefore,  the  police-sergeant,  in 
obedience  to  that  universally  received  law,  that  rags  and  misery  justly 
warrant  every  unworthy  suspicion  of  the  unfortunate  possessors,  added, 
in  a  tone  of  severe  authority  : 

"  Holla,  my  girl !  you  must  be  deucedly  pressed  for  time,  since 
you  cannot  stop  even  to  pick  up  your  money  after  you  have  dropped 
it." 

"  I  suppose  she  makes  her  hump  her  savings'  bank,"  cried  a  hoarse 
voice,  proceeding  from  a  vendor  of  lucifer-matches,  whose  hardened 
countenance  was  the  very  type  of  precocious  depravity.  This  witti- 
cism was  received  by  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  assembled  mob, 
whose  cries  of  assent  and  approbation  so  completely  overwhelmed  poor 
La  Mayeux,  that  it  was  with  infinite  difficulty  she  managed  to  reply 
to  the  police-officer,  who  presented  her  with  the  two  pieces  of  money 
the  sergeant  had  picked  up. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  that  money  does  not  belong  to  me  !  " 

"  That 's  a  lie  I  "  answered  the  sergeant,  approaching  :  "  a  lady 
saw  it  full  from  your  pocket !  " 

"No,  I  assure  you,  sirl  Indeed,  it  is  not  mine  I"  answered  La 
Mayeux,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  is  a  falsehood  I  "  continued  the  man  :  "why, 
the  respectable  lady  who  saw  it  drop  from  you  remarked  at  the  time, 
says  she,  '  Sergeant,  just  look  at  that  humpbacked  girl,'  says  she, 
'  running  off  with  that  great  bundle !  Why,  she  is  in  such  a  hurry/ 


356  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

says  she,  '  that  when  her  money  tumbles  down  she  never  turns  her 
head  to  look  after  it.  There  is  something  wrong,  depend  upon 
it!'" 

"  I  say,  Mister  Sergeant,"  cried  the  husky  voice  of  the  match- 
seller,  "keep  your  eye  open — she's  a  deep  'un  !  Just  feel  her  hum]) 
— that 's  her  hoarding-place.  I'll  be  bound  she  's  got  all  manner  of 
tilings  hid  there  :  boots,  cloaks,  umbrellas,  clocks,  and  watches.  Hark! 
I  heard  a  clock  strike  just  now  :  I'm  hanged  if  the  sound  didn't  come 
out  of  her  hunch  I  " 

Fresh  laughter,  fresh  hurrahs,  and  renewed  hallooing  issued  from 
the  merciless  crowd ;  for  an  ignorant  and  brutal  mob  rarely  shews 
mercy  to  those  who,  whether  from  their  crime  or  misfortune,  stand 
the  most  in  need  of  it.  Still  more  and  more  dense  became  the  assem- 
blage of  persons,  and  one  confused  mass  soon  blocked  up  the  street ; 
while  hoarse  cries,  shrill  whistlings,  and  low  jests  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth. 

"  Let  '9  have  a  look — there 's  nothing  to  pay  !  "  said  one. 

"  I  say,  don't  scrouge — I  paid  for  my  place  I  "  cried  another. 

"  Make  the  woman  stand  up  on  something,  that  we  can  all  see  I  " 
shouted  a  third. 

"  Ah,  do !  "  chimed  in  a  fourth  :  "  my  feet  are  getting  stamped  on, 
and  no  one  will  pay  me  for  that,  I  expect !  " 

"  Shew  her  up,  or  return  every  body  their  money !  " 

"  Our  money  or  our  places !  "  bawled  another. 

"  Let 's  have  a  look  at  her  !  Shew  her  up,  alive  or  dead !  "  voci- 
ferated another  wit. 

While,  at  each  fresh  sound,  the  trembling  object  of  their  mirth 
seemed  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth. 

Let  the  reader  but  picture  to  himself  this  unfortunate  girl,  •whose 
disposition  and  heart  were  so  nobly,  yet  delicately  attuned  to  every 
good  and  gentle  impulse — whose  nature  was  at  once  so  timid  and  sen- 
sitive— constrained  to  hear  these  coarse  jests,  and  to  listen  to  the 
uproarious  mirth  of  the  rabble  by  whom  she  was  hemmed  in — standing* 
in  the  midst  of  the  pitiless  crowd,  alone  and  unprotected ;  for  the 
police-sergeant,  who  stood  beside  her,  was  far  from  seeking  to  abate 
her  misery  by  his  interposition,  and  yet  entirely  ignorant  of  the  cause 
of  her  present  degradation,  and  unable  to  comprehend  the  nature  of 
the  charge  which  led  to  it. 

She  was  not,  however,  allowed  long  to  remain  in  doubt ;  for  the 
police-officer,  seizing  the  bundle  she  had  picked  up,  and  was  holding 
in  her  trembling  arms,  roughly  inquired, 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  Sir,  it  is  only — something — I  was  going " 

And  in  her  extreme  terror  the  words  died  away  on  the  unfortunate 
girl's  lips,  and  she  found  it  impossible  to  utter  another  sound. 

"  Is  that  all  the  answer  you  can  make  ?  "  said  the  officer.  "  Well, 
then,  you  have  not  much  to  say  for  yourself.  Come,  look  sharp,  and 
open  your  bundle  I  Let 's  see  Avhat  you  have  got !  " 

So  saying,  the  police-officer,  aided  by  the  sergeant,  took  the  bundle 
from  her,  opened  it,  and  said,  while  enumerating  the  objects  it  con- 
tained, 

"  What  the  devil  have  we  got  here  ?    Sheets— a  blanket — spoon— 


THB     AKHKST. 


APPKAIIANCES.  357 

fork — and  silver  cup  ! — a  shawl,  too  !  Ton  my  life,  you  come  it  strong 
— you  do  I  A  wench  like  you,  a  mere  rag-picker,  to  be  carrying 
articles  of  silver  about  with  you  !  Well,  you  must  be  an  old  hand  at 
it,  to  venture  in  daylight,  too !  " 

"  These  things  are  not  yours,  you  say  ?  "  said  the  sergeant. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  who  felt  her  strength  fast  failing 
her ;  "  but  I " 

"  Ah,  you  hardened  little  humpback !  Why,  you  steal  things 
larger  than  yourself! " 

"  Steal !  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  clasping  her  hands  with  horror, 
and  understanding  at  once  the  position  in  which  she  stood;  "steal! — 
me  steal ! " 

"  Here,  guard  !  guard !  "  cried  several  voices  at  once. 

"  Here,  my  jack-a-dandies  !  " 

"  This  way,  my  tourlourous !  " 

"  Now,  my  fire-eaters !  " 

"  Room  for  the  twenty-third  dromedaries !— that  fine  regiment, 
that  fight  as  well  in  their  sleep  as  when  they  are  awake  !  " 

In  the  midst  of  these  witticisms  and  loud-approving  laughs,  two 
soldiers  and  a  corporal,  with  some  difficulty,  approached.  Nothing 
could  be  discerned  of  them,  in  the  midst  of  the  dense  mass  through 
which  they  were  obliged  to  force  their  way,  but  the  glittering  of  their 
bayonets  and  muskets. 

A  messenger  had  been  despatched  to  the  nearest  guard-house,  to 
report  the  really  formidable  obstruction  so  large  an  assemblage  of 
persons  caused  in  the  public  streets. 

"  Now,  then,  here  is  the  guard  !  "  said  the  police-officer,  seizing 
La  Mayeux  by  the  arm ;  "  so  march  on,  humpy,  to  the  guard- 
house ! " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  cficd  the  poor  girl,  half-choked  by  her  sobs,  clasping 
her  hands  in  terror,  and  falling  on  her  knees  in  the  wet  and  snow, 
which  covered  the  pavement ;  "  oh,  sir  !  mercy,  mercy  !  Only  let  me 
tell  you,  let  me  explain  to  you " 

"  You  can  explain  as  much  as  you  like  at  the  guard-house.  March, 
I  say ! " 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  have  not  stolen  any  thing — indeed,  indeed,  sir,  I  have 
not!"  cried  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  of  distraction.  "  Pray  take  pity  on 
me !  Do  not  allow  me  to  be  led  away  like  a  thief,  before  all  these 
people  !  Oh,  mercy  ! — for  Heaven's  sake,  spare  me ! " 

"  I  tell  you  you  can  say  all  you've  got  to  say  after  you  reach  the 
guard-house  :  the  street  is  quite  blocked  up.  Now,  do  you  choose  to 
move  on,  or  don't  you  ? — which  is  it  to  be  ?  " 

And,  so  saying,  he  took  the  wretched  girl  by  both  her  hands,  and 
in  a  manner  forced  her  from  her  kneeling  attitude,  and  compelled  her 
to  stand  up. 

At  this  moment  the  corporal  and  his  two  men,  having  succeeded 
in  penetrating  the  crowd,  approached  the  sergeant. 

"  Corporal,"  said  the  latter,  "  conduct  this  girl  to  the  guard-house ! 
I  am  a  police-officer." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen,  gentlemen — mercy,  mercy  I  "  said  La  Mayeux, 
clasping  her  hands,  and  weeping  bitterly  ;  "don't  take  me  away  before 
you  have  allowed  me  to  explain  to  you.  I  am  no  thief—  God  knows 


358  THE  WANDERING    JEW. 

I  have  stolen  nothing !  Let  me  tell  you  how  I  came  by  those  tilings  : 
it  was  to  serve  another  person.  Oh,  let  me  tell  you  how " 

"  J  say  again,  that  you  can  enter  upon  your  explanations  after  you 
arrive  at  the  guard-house.  Come,"  added  the  sergeant,  "  if  you  won't 
walk,  they  must  drag  you — that 's  all !  " 

It  is  impossible  to  paint  this  disgraceful  and  fearful  scene.  Weak, 
exhausted,  and  overcome  by  terror,  the  poor  girl  was  led  away  by  the 
soldiers,  her  knees  tottering  under  her  ;  so  that  it  became  necessary 
for  the  sergeant  and  police-officer  to  support  her  between  them ;  and 
she,  poor  sinking  creature !  finding  each  step  she  took  too  much  for 
her  worn-out  strength,  mechanically  accepted  the  assistance  they 
proffered. 

As  the  procession  moved  on,  fresh  yells  and  cries  burst  forth  from 
the  multitude. 

Half -dragged,  half -supported  by  these  men,  the  unfortunate 
Mayeux  was  led  along ;  and  so,  beneath  the  hazy  sky,  in  the  midst  of 
the  muddy  streets,  hemmed  in  on  each  side  by  the  dark,  ponderous 
dwellings  which  formed  the  boundary,  this  swarming  and  revolting 
mass  (recalling,  as  it  did,  the  wildest  images  of  Callot  or  Goya) 
moved  on.  Children  in  rags,  drunken  men  and  women,  with  flushed 
and  soiled  countenances,  pushed  eagerly  against  each  other — strove, 
struggled,  even  to  being  trampled  under  foot,  while  they  followed, 
hissing,  groaning,  and  deriding  the  half-dead  creature,  dragged  along 
— the  victim  of  an  infamous  error. 

An  error!  Well  may  one  shudder  at  the  recollection  of  how 
frequently  such  scenes  have  been,  and  may  still  again  be,  enacted  from 
similar  mistakes,  founded  simply  on  the  outward  appearance  of  \vant 
and  misery  exhibited  by  the  party  suspected,  or  indeed  from  no  other 
cause  than  an  indistinct  information  ! 

For  ourselves,  we  shall  long  remember  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate 
girl,  who,  having  been  arrested  upon  a  wrong  and  disreputable  charge, 
contrived  to  escape  from  the  persons  who  were  leading  her  to  prison, 
and,  rushing  to  the  top  of  a  house,  threw  herself,  while  under  the 
influence  of  despair,  from  a  window,  and  dashed  out  her  brains  on  the 

pavement ! 

****** 

After  the  abominable  fabrications  of  which  the  poor  Mayeux  was 
the  victim,  Madame  Grivois  returned  with  all  haste  to  the  Rue  Brise- 
Miche.  She  hurried  up  the  stairs  till  she  reached  the  fourth  landing- 
place,  and  opened  the  door  of  Francoise's  apartment.  Then  what  a 
sight  met  her  eyes ! — Dagobert,  surrounded  by  his  wife  and  the  young 
orphans  ! 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  CONVENT. 


LET  us  in  two  words  explain  the  cause  of  Dagobert's  presence. 
His  countenance  bore  so  fully  the  impress  of  military  frankness, 
the  director  of  tke  coach-oflice  was  content  with  hjs  word  to 


THE  CONVENT.  359 

return  and  pay  his  fare,  but  the  soldier  had  obstinately  insisted  on 
staying  in  pawn,  as  he  called  it,  until  his  wife  had  answered  his  letter ; 
and  then,  on  the  return  of  the  messenger,  who  told  him  that  the  money 
required  would  be  forthcoming  shortly,  Dagobert,  feeling  his  scruples 
satisfied,  ran  hastily  home. 

We  may,  therefore,  imagine  the  surprise  of  Madame  Grivois  when, 
on  entering  the  apartment,  she  saw  Dagobert  (whom  she  easily  recog- 
nised by  the  description  she  had  heard  of  him)  with  his  wife  and  the 
orphans. 

The  anxiety  of  Fnu^oise  at  the  sight  of  Madame  Grivois  was 
equally  great. 

Rose  and  Blanche  had  told  Dagobert's  wife  that  a  lady  had  called 
during  her  absence,  on  a  very  important  affair,  and,  instructed  as  she 
had  been  by  her  confessor,  Francoise  could  not  doubt  but  that  this 
lady  was  charged  to  conduct  Rose  and  Blanche  to  a  religious  house. 

Her  agony  was  excessive,  for,  although  resolved  on  following  the 
commands  of  the  Abbe  Dubois,  she  was  afraid  that  a  word  dropped 
by  Madame  Grivois  might  awaken  Dagobert's  suspicions,  and  then  all 
hope  was  lost — then  the  orphans  would  remain  for  ever  in  a  state  of 
ignorance  and  mortal  sin,  for  which  she  felt  herself  responsible. 

Dagobert,  who  was  clasping  the  hands  of  Rose  and  Blanche  in  his 
own,  rose  when  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier's  confidential  attendant  en- 
tered, and  cast  an  inquiring  look  on  Francoise. 

The  moment  was  critical — decisive ;  but  Madame  Grivois  had  pro- 
fited much  by  the  examples  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier,  and  so 
at  once  making  up  her  mind,  she  turned  to  account  the  haste  with 
which  she  had  ascended  the  four  pairs  of  stairs,  after  her  scandalous  de- 
nunciation against  La  Mayeux  ;  and  the  annoyance  which  the  sight  of 
Dagobert  had  caused  her  giving  to  her  features  an  expression  of  great 
disquietude  and  chagrin,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  stifled  voice,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  which  she  seemed  to  employ  in  calming  her  agitation 
and  collecting  her  thoughts, 

"  Ah,  madame  !  I  have  just  seen  such  a  terrible  thing — excuse  my 
agitation — but  really  I  was  deeply  pained  ! " 

"  Oh  !  what  is  the  matter  ?"  replied  Francoise,  in  a  tremulous  voice, 
and  fearing  the  want  of  tact  on  the  part  of  Madame  Grivois. 

"  I  came  here  a  short  lime  since,"  resumed  that  lady,  "  to  speak 
to  you  on  a  very  important  affair,  and  whilst  1  was  awaiting  for  you,  a 
young  deformed  workwoman  was  putting  up  a  quantity  of  things  in  a 
bundle." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,"  said  Franroise,  "  it  was  La  Mayeux,  that  excellent, 
worthy  creature!" 

"  I  should  think  so,  madaine ;  but  listen  to  what  happened.  See- 
ing that  you  did  not  return,  I  resolved  on  taking  a  turn  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  going  down  stairs,  I  went  to  the  Rue  Saint-Merry 
— ah,  madame! ".' 

"  Well,"  said  Dagob^rt,  "  what  happened  ?  " 

"  I  saw  a  mob — I  asked  the  cause,  arid  they  told  jne  that  a  sergent- 
de-ville  had  just  apprehended  a  young  girl  as  a  thief,  because  they  bad 
surprised  her  carrying  off  a  bundle  containing  different  objects  which 
appeared  not  to  belong  to  her.  I  went  up,  and  what  did  I  see  ?  The 
young  workgirl  whom  an  instant  before  1  had  left  here," 


3GO  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Ah,  poor  child ! "  exclaimed  Francoise,  turning  pale,  and  clasping 
her  hands  in  alarm  ;  "  what  a  misfortune  ! " 

"  What,  then,"  asked  Dagobert  of  his  wife,  "  was  in  this  bundle?" 

"  Well,  I  must  tell  you  ;  being  short  of  money,  I  had  begged  poor 
Mayeux  to  take,  as  quickly  as  possible,  to  the  Mont  de  Piete,  the  dif- 
ferent objects  of  which  we  did  not  stand  in  immediate  need." 

"  And  they  have  supposed  that  she  stole  them  ! "  exclaimed  Dago- 
bert ;  "  she,  the  honestest  girl  in  the  world  !  What  a  shame  !  But, 
madame,  you  should  have  interfered,  and  said  that  you  knew  her ! " 

"  I  did  attempt  to  do  so,  sir ;  but,  unfortunately,  they  would  not 
listen  to  me.  The  crowd  increased  every  moment — the  guard  came 
up  and  took  her  off." 

"  It  will  kill  her,  gentle  and  timid  thing  as  she  is !"  exclaimed  Fran- 
coise. 

"  Ah,  the  good  Mayeux  !  she  who  was  so  kind  and  thoughtful ! " 
said  Blanche  turning  to  her  sister,  with  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

"  Unable  myself  to  do  any  thing  for  her,"  replied  Madame  Grivois, 
"  I  made  all  the  haste  I  could  to  run  here  and  tell  you  of  this  mistake, 
which  I  hope  may  soon  be  rectified  ;  all  that  is  requisite  is  for  some  one 
to  go  as  quickly  as  possible  to  bear  evidence  for  the  young  girl." 

At  these  words  Dagobert  took  up  his  hat  quickly,  and  turning  to 
Madame  Grivois  said,  in  a  blunt  tone, 

"  Oh,  madame,  you  should  have  begun  by  saying  that.  Do  you 
know  where  the  poor  girl  is  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir ;  but  there  are  still  in  the  street  so  many 
people,  and  such  a  disturbance,  that  if  you  have  the  kindness  to  go 
down  directly  and  make  inquiries  you  will  easily  learn." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  'have  the  kindness?'     Poor' 
child!"  said  Dagobert,  "apprehended  as  a  thief! — it  is  horrible!     I 
will  go  to  the  commissary  of  police  in  the  quarter,  or  to  the  guard- 
house, and  I  will  find  her — they  shall  give  her  up,  and  I  will  bring 
her  here." 

So  saying,  Dagobert  went  out  very  quickly. 

Francoise,  assured  as  to  the  fate  of  La  Mayeux,  returned  thanks  to 
the  Lord  for  having,  thanks  to  this  event,  taken  her  husband  out,  as 
his  presence  at  this  moment  would  have  embarrassed  her  seriously. 

Madame  Grivois  had  left  Monsieur  in  the  hackney-coach  before 
she  came  up  stairs,  for  time  was  precious,  and  giving  Francoise  a  signi- 
ficant look  as  she  handed  the  Abbe  Dubois'  letter  to  her,  she  said, 
laying  emphasis  on  each  word, 

"  You  will  see  in  this  letter,  madame,  the  object  of  my  vis:t  here, 
which  will,  therefore,  need  no  further  explanation  ;  and  I  am  delighted 
at  the  opportunity  it  has  given  me  of  forming  tl>  acquaintance  of  these 
two  charming  young  ladies." 

Hose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  surprise. 

Fran9oise  trembled  as  she  took  the  letter.  It  required  all  the 
urgt-nt  and  threatening  injunctions  of  her  confessor  to  subdue  the  last 
scruples  of  the  poor  woman,  who  shuddered  when  she  reflected  on  the 
fierce  anger  of  Dagobert.  In  her  candour,  however,  she  had  not 
thought  of  the  mode  in  which  she  should  announce  to  the  two  young 
girla  that  they  were  to  go  away  witli  this  lady. 

Madame  Grivois  saw  her  embarrassment,  and  giving  her  an  as- 


THE  CONVENT,  361 

suring  look,  said  to  Rose,  while  Frar^oise  was  reading  her  confessor's 
letter, 

"  How  delighted  your  relation  will  be  to  see  you,  my  dear  young 
lady!" 

"  Our  relation,  inadame ! "  said  Rose,  still  more  astonished. 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  she  learnt  of  your  arrival  here,  but  as  she  has 
been  suffering  for  a  long  time  under  a  severe  complaint,  she  could  not 
come  herself  to-day,  and  has,  therefore,  desired  me  to  fetch  you  to  her. 
Unfortunately,"  added  Madame  Grivois,  as  the  two  young  girls  started 
with  surprise,  "  as  she  says  in  the  letter  to  Madame  Franchise,  you  can 
only  see  her  for  a  very  short  time,  and  in  one  hour  you  will  be  back 
again  here  ;  but  to-morrow,  or  next  day,  she  will  be  able  to  stir 
abroad,  and  will  come  and  have  some  talk  with  madame  and  her  hus- 
band, as  to  your  taking  up  your  residence  with  her :  for  she  would  be 
much  distressed  to  allow  you  to  be  any  expense  to  two  persons  so  kind 
and  good  to  you." 

These  last  words  of  Madame  Grivois  made  a  strong  impression  on 
the  two  sisters,  inasmuch  as  they  removed  their  fears  lest  they  might 
in  future  become  a  serious  cost  to  Dagobert's  family.  If  it  had  been 
a  question  of  leaving  the  house  in  the  Rue  Brise-Michc  without  the 
consent  of  their  friend,  they  would  doubtless  have  hesitated  ;  but 
Madame  Grivois  spoke  only  of  an  hour's  visit,  and  they  had  no  sus- 
picion. Rose  said  to  Franchise, 

"  We  may  go  and  see  our  relation  without  awaiting  Dagobert's 
coming  back  to  tell  him  of  it;  may  we  not,  madame?" 

"  Certainly ! "  said  Francoise,  in  a  weak  voice  ;  "  since  you  will 
return  here  directly." 

"  Now,  madame,  I  will  request  these  young  ladies  to  accompany 
me  as  quickly  as  possible,  for  I  shall  bring  them  back  before  noon." 

"  We  are  ready,  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"  Well,  young  ladies,  embrace  your  second  mother  and  come," 
said  Madame  Grivois,  who  could  hardly  restrain  her  disquiet,  and 
trembled  lest  from  one  moment  to  another  Dagobert  might  return. 

Rose  and  Blanche  embraced  Francoise ;  who,  pressing  in  her 
arms  the  two  charming  and  innocent  creatures  she  was  surrendering, 
could  hardly  subdue  her  tears,  although  she  had  a  deep  conviction 
that  she  was  acting  for  their  benefit. 

"  Come,  young  ladies,"  said  Madame  Grivois,  with  an  affable 
tone,  "  make  haste :  excuse  my  hurry,  but  it  is  in  the  name  of  your 
relation  that  I  speak." 

The  two  sisters,  after  having  tenderly  embraced  Dagobert's  wife, 
left  the  room  ;  and  holding  her  by  the  hand  descended  the  staircase, 
followed  without  their  knowing  it  by  Kill-joy,  who  walked  cautiously 
after  them,  for  in  Dagobert's  absence  the  intelligent  animal  never  left 
them. 

For  the  sake  of  greater  precaution,  no  doubt,  the  confidential  at- 
tendant of  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  had  ordered  her  coach  to  wait  a 
little  way  off  the  Rue  Brise-Michc,  by  the  little  square  of  the 
Cloister. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  orphans  and  their  conductress  reached  the 
carriage. 

"  Ah,  mistress!"  said  the  coachman,  as  he  opened  the  door;  "I 


362  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

don't  wish  to  affront  you,  but  you  have  a  beast  of  a  dog  who  is  any- 
thing but  an  agreeable  customer,  and  since  he  has  been  in  my  coach 
he  has  howled  like  a  good  'un,  and  looks  as  if  he'd  like  to  eat  every 
body  as  comes  in  his  way." 

In  truth  Monsieur,  who  detested  being  alone,* gave  many  lengthened 
howls. 

"Silence,  Monsieur! — here  I  am,  sir,"  said  Madame  Grivois. 
Then  turning  to  the  two  girls  she  desired  them  to  enter  the  coach. 

Rose  and  Blanche  took  their  seats.  Madame  Grivois,  before  she 
got  into  the  carriage,  gave  the  coachman  the  address  in  a  low  tone  to 
the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  adding  other  instructions,  when  suddenly 
the  pug,  who  had  begun  to  growl  with  a  savage  air  when  the  two 
sisters  took  their  places  in  the  coach,  began  to  bark  furiously. 

The  cause  of  his  rage  was  easily  explained ;  Kill-joy,  who  until 
then  had  not  been  discovered,  leaped  with  a  bound  into  the  coach. 

The  pug  enraged  at  this  audacity,  and  forgetful  of  his  habitual 
freedom,  and  excited  by  his  anger  and  bad  temper,  jumped  at  Kill- 
joy's muzzle,  and  bit  him  so  severely  that  the  bold  Siberian  dog, 
exasperated  by  the  pain,  threw  himself  on  Monsieur,  seized  him  by 
the  neck,  and  with  two  gripes  of  his  powerful  jaw  strangled  the  pug, 
who  was  already  half-choked  in  his  own  fat. 

All  this  passed  more  quickly  than  it  takes  to  describe  it, 
and  Rose  and  Blanche  had  not  the  time  to  do  more  than  call  out 
twice, 

"  Down,  Kill-joy  ! — Have  done,  sir !" 

"  God  bless  me  ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  turning  round  at 
the  noise ;  "  send  away  this  beast  of  a  dog !  he  will  hurt  Monsieur  I 
Pray,  young  ladies,  send  him  back !  make  him  get  down — it  is  quite 
impossible  to  take  him  with  us  !" 

Unconscious  of  the  extent  of  Kill-joy's  misconduct,  for  Monsieur 
was  lying  inanimate  beneath  the  seat,  yet  feeling  that  it  was  not  right 
to  pay  a  first  visit  accompanied  by  such  a  dog,  the  sisters  gently 
pushed  him  with  their  feet,  saying,  in  an  angry  tone : 

"  Get  down,  Kill-joy  !  go  away,  sir  !  "• 

The  faithful  animal  hesitated  at  first  to  obey ;  sorrowful  and  be- 
seechingly he  looked  at  the  orphans  with  an  air  of  gentle  reproach,  as 
though  blaming  them  for  thus  sending  away  their  only  defender :  but 
at  a  repetition  of  the  command,  pronounced  in  Blanche's  most  angry 
voice,  Kill-joy  with  drooping  tail  descended  from  the  fiacre,  feeling 
perhaps  conscious  of  having  shewn  himself  pretty  strong  in  the  affair 
with  Monsieur. 

Madame  Grivois,  who  had  her  own  reasons  for  wishing  to  quit 
that  neighbourhood  as  quickly  as  possible,  hastily  ascended  the  car- 
riage— the  coachman  closed  the  door  and  got  on  his  box — when  the 
fiacre  drove  rapidly  away,  Madame  Grivois  prudently  drawing  down 
the  blinds  for  fear  of  any  rencontre  with  Dagobert. 

These  indispensable  precautions  taken,  she  began  to  recollect  Mon- 
sieur, whom  she  most  tenderly  loved  with  all  the  exaggerated  fondness 
with  which  persons  of  warped  or  vicious  minds  are  often  apt  to 
regard  animals ;  frequently  exhausting  and  lavishing  on  them  the 
cares,  the  tenderness,  and  affection  which  is  justly  the  right  of  one's 
own  species.  In  a  word,  Madame  Grivois  was  passionately  fond  of 


TBB  COXVEXT.  363 

the  ill-contrived,  snarling,  snapping  cur;  probably  from  some  secret 
affinity  between  their  natures :  however  that  might  be,  Madame 
Grivois  and  Monsieur  had  been  attached  friends  for  the  last  six 
years,  and  their  fondness  seemed  but  to  increase  as  time  went  on. 

We  have  dwelt  longer  than  was  perhaps  necessary  upon  an  appa- 
rently trifling  circumstance,  because  it  is  frequently  from  small  causes 
that  the  most  disastrous  results  arise ;  and  because  we  are  desirous 
our  readers  should  fully  understand  the  despair,  the  rage,  the  fury, 
and  exasperation  of  this  woman  on  having  her  darling  thus  torn  from 
her — a  rage  which  fell  with  deadly  fury  on  the  heads  of  the  poor 
devoted  orphan  girls. 

The  vehicle  had  rolled  on  at  a  smart  pace  for  some  few  seconds, 
when  Madame  Grivois,  who  had  taken  the  front  seat,  called 
Monsieur. 

Very  sufficient  reasons,  however,  prevented  Monsieur  from  re- 
plying. 

"  Oh  !  what  you  are  angry,  are  you  ?"  said  Madame  Grivois, 
caressingly.  "  And  so  you  have  quarrelled  !  why,  it  was  not  my  fault 
that  the  ugly  great  dog  got  into  the  carriage  and  frightened  my  pet — 
Mras  it  young  ladies?" 

"  Come,  come,  then !  give  mistress  a  pretty  kiss  and  let  us  be 
friends,  there's  a  darling  !  " 

Still  the  same  determined  silence  on  the  part  of  Monsieur. 

Rose  and  Blanche  looked  at  each  other  with  some  uneasiness ; 
they  knew  Kill-joy's  manners  were  not  particularly  gentle  to  those  who 
offended  him ;  and  yet  even  they  did  not  anticipate  the  severity  of 
the  punishment  he  had  this  time  inflicted. 

Madame  Grivois,  more  surprised  than  alarmed  at  finding  her 
affectionate  appeals  unanswered,  stooped  down  at  last  to  take  him 
from  his  hiding-place  under  the  seat.  Seizing  one  of  Monsieur's 
paws,  she  drew  him  out  rather  impatiently,  saying  in  a  tone  half- 
serious,  half-playful, 

"  Come  out,  you  naughty  boy  !  what  will  these  young  ladies  think 
of  you?" 

So  saying,  she  lifted  up  her  dear  pug,  not  a  little  astonished  at  the 
listlessness  and  indifference  manifested  by  him  ;  but  what  was  her 
horror,  when,  upon  placing  him  iu  her  lap,  she  discovered  lie  was 
utterly  motionless! 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  she;  "the  poor  dear  is  in  a  fit !  I 
thought  he  would  suffer  when  he  ate  so  much  of  that  cream  yester- 
day." Then  quickly  turning  round  she  hastily  exclaimed,  without  once 
remembering  that  the  person  she  addressed  could  not  possibly  hear  her, 
"  Coachman  !  coachman  !  stop,  I  say."  Then  lifting  up  the  head  of 
Monsieur,  under  the  belief  of  his  having  only  fainted,  she  perceived 
with  horror  the  bleeding  marks  of  five  or  six  huge  fangs  upon  the  fat 
throat  of  her  beloved  pug — clearly  proving  the  violent  death  which 
had  torn  him  from  her.  Her  first  ideas  were  filled  with  grief  and 
despair.  "  Dead  !"  cried  she  ;  "  dead  !  he  is  dead  and  cold  !  Gracious 
heavens  !  what  will  become  of  me  without  my  darling  ?  " 

So  saying,  she  burst  into  tears. 

The  tears  of  the  wicked  are  always  to  be  mistrusted.  In  the  first 
place,  it  takes  much  to  make  them  weep ;  and  so  far  from  grief 


064  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

expanding  or  softening,  it  inflames  their  minds,  and  inspires  them  with 
fresh  hatred  to  all  around. 

Thus,  therefore,  when  the  first  burst  of  her  grief  and  surprise  had 
passed  away,  Madame  Grivois  gave  way  to  a  feeling  of  deep,  deadly, 
concentrated  hate  against  the  young  girls,  who  had  been  the  invo- 
luntary cause  of  her  dog's  death  ;  and  so  plainly  was  her  rage  and 
determination  to  avenge  herself  depicted  on  the  harsh  countenance  of 
Madame  Grivois,  that  Rose  and  Blanche  were  terrified  at  the  purple 
and  inflamed  features  so  sternly  fixed  on  them,  while  with  a  voice  con- 
vulsed with  fury  she  exclaimed : 

"  'Twas  your  beast  of  a  dog  killed  my  sweet  pet !" 

"Pray,  pray,  madame,"  cried  Rose,  "do  not  be  angry  with  us 
for  it" 

"  Your  dog  bit  Kill-joy  first,"  uttered  Blanche,  in  a  plaintive  tone. 

The  terror  impressed  on  the  faces  of  the  two  orphans  recalled 
Madame  Grivois  to  herself,  and  brought  to  her  recollection  the  serious 
consequences  of  indulging  her  anger  at  the  present  juncture.  Even  for 
the  furtherance  of  the  schemes  of  vengeance  she  now  meditated  it  was 
necessary  to  restrain  her  feelings,  that  she  might  avoid  inspiring  the 
daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  with  any  mistrust  of  or  dislike  to  her. 
Unwilling  to  seem  too  easily  pacified,  and  fearing  a  too  rapid  transition 
from  anger  to  kindness  might  excite  suspicion,  she  continued  for 
several  instants  to  contemplate  the  sisters  with  looks  of  dire  displeasure, 
then  feigning  by  degrees  to  calm  down  her  irritated  feelings  into  a 
bitter  regret.  After  which,  Madame  Grivois,  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  sighing  heavily,  affected  to  weep  with  undiminished  sorrow. 

"  Poor  lady  !"  said  Rose,  in  a  low  tone  to  Blanche,  "  how  she  weeps ! 
I  dare  say  she  w*  as  fond  of  her  dog  as  we  are  of  Kill-joy." 

"  Oh,  yes !"  answered  Blanche;  "and  remember,  sister,  how  we  ciied 
when  our  poor  old  Jovial  was  killed  I" 

After  some  minutes  Madame  Grivois  raised  her  head,  and  finally 
drying  her  eyes  said,  in  a  tone  of  almost  affectionate  earnestness, 

"  Pray  excuse  me,  young  ladies,  for  thus  yielding  to  the  first  emo- 
tions of  grief  and  distress  at  the  loss  of  my  poor,  dear  dog,  to  whom  I 
was  most  tenderly  attached,  and  who,  for  the  last  six  years,  has  never 
quitted  me  for  a  single  day  !" 

"  We  are  truly  grieved  for  your  misfortune,  madame,"  said  Rose  ; 
"  and  the  more  so  as  your  loss  is  not  to  be  repaired  by  any  means  in 
our  power ! " 

"  I  was  saying  just  now  to  my  sister,  that  we  were  the  more  sorry 
for  you,  because  we  lost  a  dear,  faithful  old  horse,  that  brought  us 
from  Siberia :  he  was  killed  by  cruel  people,  and  we  shed  so  many 
tears  concerning  him." 

"Well,  my  dear  young  ladies,  don't  let  us  say  any  more  about  it. 
It  is  my  fault,  I  ought  not  to  have  brought  him  with  me ;  but  he  was 
always  so  miserable  when  I  was  absent  from  him — you  can  understand 
my  weakness  in  indulging  the  poor  fellow.  Ah  !  you  may  always 
know  a  feeling  heart  by  the  conduct  shewn  towards  nnimals ;  those  who 
are  tender  towards  dumb  things  are  sure  to  be  full  of  sympathy  and 
kindness  towards  their  fellow-creatures.  I  trust,  therefore,  that  your 
affectionate  hearts  will  pardon  the  little  displeasure  I  confess  I  could 
not  help  feeling  at  the  first  glance  of  iny  murdered  favourite." 


THE  CONVENT.  365 

"  Oh,  pray,  niadame,  do  not  think  of  us :  indeed,  all  our  regret 
arose  from  seeing  you  so  distressed." 

"  That  will  soon  pass  away,  my  dear  young  ladies ;  and  the  sight 
of  the  joy  your  relation  will  experience  in  beholding  you  will  assist  in 
consoling  me — she  will  be  so  happy,  you  are  such  sweet  creatures ;  and, 
then,  the  singular  resemblance  you  bear  each  other  increases  the 
interest  you  cannot  fail  to  inspire." 

"  You  are  too  good  to  us,  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"  Not  at  all ;  and  I  feel  certain  you  resemble  each  other  as  much 
in  disposition  as  you  do  in  countenance." 

"Oh,  yes,  madame!"  said  Rose:  "how  could  it  be  otherwise, 
when,  from  the  hour  of  our  birth,  we  have  never  been  separated  for  a 
single  instant,  night  or  day?  How  then  could  we  fail  being  of  similar 
natures  and  dispositions  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  dear  young  ladies,  that  you  have  never  been 
parted  in  your  lives  ?" 

"  Never,  madame,"  cried  the  two  sisters  at  once,  as,  grasping  each 
other's  hand,  they  exchanged  a  fond  and  affectionate  glance. 

"  Then,  I  dare  say,  you  would  be  perfectly  miserable  if  you  were 
taken  from  each  other  ?" 

"  Oh,  but  we  never  should  be  separated,  madame,"  said  Blanche, 
smilingly. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Nay,  madame,  who  would  have  the  heart  to  do  it?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  my  dear  young  ladies,  none  but  very  wicked 
people  would  ever  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Oh,  madame  !"  replied  Blanche,  with  a  look  of  innocent  sweet- 
ness, "  not  even  wicked  people  could  be  so  very  cruel  as  that — no  one 
would  ever  think  of  parting  us." 

"  So  much  the  better,  my  dear  mademoiselle ;  but  tell  me  why  you 
think  it  would  be  impossible  to  separate  you." 

"  Because  we  should  both  die  of  grief." 

"  Yes,  our  hearts  would  break  I " 

"  Poor  dears  !" 

"  Three  months  ago  we  were  thrown  into  prison :  well,  when  the 
governor  of  the  prison,  who  was  a  very  harsh-looking  man,  saw  us,  he 
said,  *  It  would  be  the  death  of  these  poor  girls  to  separate  them ;'  so 
he  let  us  be  together,  and  we  were  as  happy  there  as  it  is  possible  to  be 
in  prison." 

"  That  speaks  much  in  favour  of  the  goodness  of  your  hearts,  as 
well  as  of  those  who  so  fully  entered  into  your  happiness  in  being 
together." 

The  vehicle  stopped. 

The  driver  called  out  "  Now,  gate,  if  you  please  I" 

"  Ah,  here  we  are,  at  your  dear  relation's  house  1 "  cried  Madame 
Grivois. 

The  large  entrance-gates  were  opened,  and  the  fiacre  rolled  with- 
out noise  over  a  large  sanded  court-yard. 

Madame  Grivois,  having  drawn  up  one  of  the  blinds,  displayed  to 
view  a  large  court,  intersected  by  a  high  wall  funning  completely 
across,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  sort  of  porch,  forming  a  small 
lodge,  supported  by  plaster  pillars.  At  the  back  of  this  porch  was  a 


366  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

small  door.  Beyond  the  wall  were  visible  the  roof  and  pediments  of  a 
large  stone  building,  which,  in  comparison  \\itli  the  houses  of  the  Rue 
Brise-Michf,  appeared  a  perfect  palace;  and,  in  their  guileless  admir- 
ation, Kosi!  and  Blanche  could  not  forbear  exclaiming, 

"  Oh,  madame,  what  a  beautiful  place  !  " 

"  Oh,  the  outside  is  nothing !  "  answered  Madame  Grivois :  "  only 
wait  till  you  see  the  interior — then,  indeed,  you  will  be  surprised !  " 

The  coachman  opened  the  door :  what  was  the  rage  of  Madame 
Grivois,  and  the  surprise  of  the  sisters,  to  perceive  Kill-joy,  who  had 
carefully  tracked  the  vehicle,  and  stood  at  the  steps  awaiting  his  young 
mistresses,  looking  as  though,  while  wagging  his  tail  and  erecting  his 
ears,  he  expected  not  only  to  be  pardoned  for  .his  late  violence,  but 
even  praised  and  commended  for  his  intelligence  and  fidelity  I 

"  God  bless  me  !  "  exclaimed  Madame  Grivois,  whose  anger  blazed 
brightly  again  at  the  sight  of  the  author  of  all  her  misery  ;  "  I  declare 
this  ugly  brute  has  dared  to  follow  us  !  " 

"  He  is  a  downright  good  'un,  though,  missus !  "  said  the  coach- 
man :  "'he  wouldn't  wag  a  step  from  my  horses'  heels  ;  he  's  been 
used  to  it,  I  'm  sure  !  He  's  a  out-and-out  dog,  he  is  !  No  two  men 
could  tackle  him,  I  '11  answer  for  't.  Look  here  —  here  's  a  chest  for 
you  I  " 

The  mistress  of  the  defunct  Monsieur,  but  little  pleased  with  these 
eulogiums  on  his  destroyer,  so  very  inopportunely  uttered  by  the 
driver  of  the  fiacre,  turned  disdainfully  away,  saying  to  the  orphans, 

"  I  will  go  and  arrange  for  your  immediate  introduction  to  your 
relative.  Sit  quietly  in  the  coach  till  I  return." 

And,  hastily  proceeding  towards  the  little  gate,  Madame  Grivois 
pulled  a  bell  that  hung  there.  A  female  wearing  a  religious  dress 
appeared,  and  made  a  respectful  inclination  of  the  head  to  Madame 
Grivois,  who  merely  said  to  her, 

"  I  have  brought  the  two  young  persons  you  expected.  The  orders 
of  M.  d'Aigrigny  and  the  princess  are,  that  they  be  instantly  and 
henceforward  separated  from  each  other,  and  placed  in  different  cells 
—  the  severe  cells,  you  understand,  good  sister  —  the  severe  cells, 
and  the .  regimen  and  treatment  bestowed'  upon  the  hardened  and 
impenitent" 

"  I  will  inform  our  holy  mother,  and  all  shall  be  done  according  to 
your  commands,"  said  the  female,  bowing  a  second  time  to  Madame 
Grivois. 

"Will  you  come  now,  my  dear  young  ladies?"  said  Madame 
Grivois  to  the  poor  girls,  who  were  stealthily  caressing  Kill-joy,  and, 
no  longer  fearful  of  offending  Madame  Grivois,  taking  this  opportunity 
of  expressing  their  approbation  of  his  zeal  and  attachment.  "  Come, 
mesdemoiselles,  and  you  will  be  conducted  at  once  to  the  presence  of 
your  relative,  I  will  return  in  an  hour  to  fetch  you.  Coachman,  keep 
back  the  dog !  " 

Rose  and  Blanche,  who,  on  alighting  from  the  fiacre,  were  solely 
occupied  with  Kill-joy,  had  not  observed  the  lay-sister,  who  stood  half- 
concealed  behind  the  little  door.  Thus,  therefore,  the  orphans  never 
once  perceived  the  religious  dress  worn  by  the  person  into  whose 
charge  they  were  given,  until  the  sister,  taking  a  hand  of  each,  to  assist 
them,  over  the  threshold,  closed  the  door  directly  behind  them. 


THE     CONVENT. 


London:  Chapman  and  Hall.     May  IV  1845. 


THE  CONVENT.  367 

Immediately  Madame  Grivois  saw  the  con  vent- gate  securely  closed 
upon  the  poor  girls,  she  directed  the  coachman  to  drive  out  of  the  yard 
and  await  her  at  the  outside  of  the  gates. 

The  man  obeyed,  and  the  vehicle  disappeared. 

Kill-joy,  who  had  seen  Rose  and  Blanche  enter  by  the  little  gate, 
ran  towards  it. 

Madame  Grivois  called  to  the  porter  of  the  outer  lodge,  a  tall, 
robust  man : 

"  Nicolas,  I  will  give  you  ten  francs  if  you  will  knock  that  huge 
beast  on  the  head  in  my  presence ;  there,  I  mean  that  great  ugly  brute 
crouched  down  before  that  door." 

Nicolas  shook  his  head  as  he  surveyed  the  gigantic  proportions  of 
Kill-joy,  adding, 

"  I  tell  you  what,  madame,  knocking  such  an  animal  as  that  on  the 
head  is  sooner  talked  about  than  done." 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  twenty  francs,  then  —  only  kill  him !  there, 
just  as  he  lies.  Let  me  see  you  do  it." 

"  Ah,  but  I  ought  to  have  a  gun  !  I  have  nothing  in-doors  but  a 
crow-bar." 

"  That  will  do.  One  good  blow,  and  you  will  knock  his  brains 
out ! " 

"  Well,  madame,  I  '11  try,  at  any  rate  ;  but  I  don't  think  it 's  to  be 
done." 

So  saying,  Nicolas  went  in  search  of  his  weapon. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  but  strength  enough  ! "  said  Madame  Grivois. 

The  porter,  armed  with  his  crow-bar,  returned,  and  approached 
Kill-joy  with  slow  and  treacherous  steps,  while  the  dog  still  kept  his 
position  before  the  gate. 

"  Here,  old  boy  ! — here,  here,  my  dog  !  come  to  me,  my  fine  fel- 
low !  "  cried  Nicolas,  slapping  his  thigh  with  his  left  hand,  while  with 
lib  right  he  held  the  bar  of  iron  concealed  behind  himself. 

Kill-joy  slowly  arose,  examined  Nicolas  with  close  attention  ;  then, 
doubtless  suspecting  that  the  porter  devised  some  mischief  against 
him,  he  made  one  spring,  walked  coolly  round  the  enemy,  and,  as 
though  perceiving  while  despising  the  intended  scheme,  he  retired  to  a 
distance  that  precluded  all  danger  of  an  attack. 

"  Ah,  he  smells  a  rat  1 "  said  Nicolas :  "  the  beggar  suspects  some- 
thing. It  is  no  use  trying  of  him ;  he  won't  let  any  body  come 
anigh." 

"You  are  an  awkward  fellow  —  that  's  all  I  can  say!"  cried 
Madame  Grivois,  in  a  rage.  "  There,"  said  she,  throwing  a  five-franc 
piece  towards  the  man,  "  you  can  drive  the  beast  away,  I  suppose,  if 
you  are  afraid  of  doing  more  !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  can,"  answered  the  porter ;  "  leastways  it  won't  be  so 
dangerous  as  trying  to  kill  him." 

Kill-joy,  therefore,  evidently  aware  of  the  inutility  of  an  open  war 
on  his  part,  quitted  the  court  and  returned  into  the  street ;  but,  once 
there,  and  feeling  himself  in  a  manner  on  neutral  ground,  no  attempts 
of  Nicolas  could  drive  him  further  from  the  gates  than  was  requisite 
to  keep  beyond  reach  of  the  crow-bar. 

When,  therefore,  Madame  Grivois,  pale  with  baffled  rage,  ascended 
the  fiacre,  in  which  were  deposited  the  inanimate  remains  of  Monsieur, 


368  THE  WANDEIUNC  JEW. 

she  behold,  with  equal  spite  and  anger,  Kill-joy  comfortably  stretched 
out  on  the  pavement  a  few  steps  from  the  exterior  entrance  to  the 
convent. 

Nicolas,  seeing  the  utter  uselessness  of  any  further  attempts  to 
dislodge  him,  contented  himself  with  retiring  and  closing  the  gates. 

The  Siberian  dog,  with  that  intelligence  peculiar  to  his  species, 
confident  of  finding  his  way  back  to  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  quietly 
awaited  the  return  of  the  orphans  from  their  visit 

The  sisters  now  found  themselves  enclosed  within  the  walls  of 
the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  which,  as  the  reader  has  been  already 
told,  closely  adjoined  the  private  madhouse  in  which  Adrienne  de 
Cardoville  was  confined. 

****** 

We  shall  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  apartment  of  Dagobert's 
wife,  who  sat  waiting  with  painful  anxiety  for  the  moment  of  her 
husband's  return,  when  the  awful  question  would  be  put  as  to  what 
had  become  of  the  daughters  of  General  Simon. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR. 

SCARCELY  had  the  orphans  quitted  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  than 
Francoise,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees,  began  praying  fervently, 
while  the  tears  she  had  hitherto  restrained  flowed  abundantly  ;  for, 
spite  of  her  entire  conviction  of  her  merely  discharging  a  religious 
duty  in  thus  surrendering  the  sisters  to  other  hands,  she  could  not 
divest  herself  of  excessive  alarm  at  the  thoughts  of  her  husband's 
return.  However  blinded  by  excessive  zeal,  the  poor  woman  could 
not  conceal  from  herself  that  Dagobert  had  just  reason  for  complaint, 
even  anger  against  her ;  and,  with  his  mind  ruffled  and  disturbed  by 
the  grievous  blow  he  would  sustain  when  he  discovered  the  part  she 
had  acted,  she  had  to  inflict  a  second  wound,  by  informing  him  of 
Agricola's  arrest — a  circumstance  Dagobert  was  as  yet  ignorant  of. 

At  each  fresh  sound  on  the  staircase  Francoise  listened  eagerly, 
trembling  violently  as  she  did  so ;  then  resumed  her  devotions  with 
redoubled  fervour,  as  though  supplicating  the  Almighty  to  give  her 
strength  to  endure  the  fiery  ordeal  through  which,  in  the  discharge  of 
her  religious  duties,  she  had  to  pass. 

At  length  a  heavy  foot  was  heard  on  the  landing-place,  and  recog- 
nising this  time  the  step  of  her  husband,  she  precipitately  arose, 
hastily  dried  her  eyes,  and,  to  give  herself  an  appearance  of  composure, 
sat  down  to  her  work,  feigning  to  be  occupied  in  making  one  of  the 
coarse  grey  bags  that  lay  upon  the  table :  but  her  trembling  fingers 
were  scarcely  equal  to  holding  the  needle,  much  less  employing  it. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened  and  Dagobert  appeared. 

The  rough  features  of  the  old  man  wore  an  expression  at  once 
severe  and  sad ;  he  threw  his  hat  down  impetuously  on  the  table,  as  he 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR.  369 

threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  owing  to  the  prc-occupatioti  of  his 
mind,  not  immediately  observing  the  absence  of  the  two  orphans. 

"  Poor  child !"  said  he  at  length ;  "  it  is  really  dreadful  to  think 
of." 

"  Have  you  seen  La  Mayeux  ?  have  you  requested  she  may  be 
given  up  to  you  ?"  asked  Francoise,  forgetting  for  a  moment  her  own 
miseries  and  apprehensions. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  I  have  seen  her ;  but  in  such  a  condition  as  would 
move  a  stone  to  pity.  I  have  claimed  her  too,  and  not  without  speak- 
ing a  bit  of  my  mind  I  can  tell  you.  However,  they  said,  before  she 

could  be  released,  the  commissary  must  come  here  to  take  your " 

and  here  Dagobert,  casting  a  troubled  look  round  the  room,  suddenly 
broke  off  in  his  narrative,  by  exclaiming, — 

"  Wife  !  where  are  the  children?" 

A  cold  shudder  passed  over  Francoise's  frame — her  tongue  seemed 
frozen  to  her  lips — at  length  she  managed  to  utter  in  a  feeble  voice, 
"  Dear  husband  !  I "  she  could  get  no  farther. 

"Answer me!  whereare  Rose  andBlanche?  where  are  my  children  ? 
I  do  not  see  Kill-joy  either." 

"  Pray  do  not  be  angry  !" 

"  Come,  come!"  said  Dagobert,  somewhat  roughly;  "I  see  how 
it  is :  you  have  permitted  them  to  go  out  with  some  friend  or  neigh- 
bour, but  why  did  you  not  accompany  them  yourself,  or  ask  them  to 
wait  for  me  if  they  wished  for  a  little  change  ?  Poor  dears  !  it  is  quite 
natural  they  should  long  to  take  a  walk,  for  this  is  but  a  dull  place  for 
young  creatures  like  them  that  have  never  been  used  to  be  cooped  up 
like  you  have.  Still  I  wonder  they  went  without  waiting  to  hear 
further  news  concerning  that  poor  girl  La  Mayeux,  for  their  hearts 
arc  as  tender,  and  as  full  of  love  and  pity,  as  those  of  angels.  But  what 
is  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  continued  the  soldier,  closely  examining 
Francoise 's  countenance  ;  "  why,  wife  I  you  are  as  pale  as  death. 
What  ails  you  ?  are  you  ill  or  in  pain  ?"  so  saying,  Dagobert  affec- 
tionately took  the  thin  feeble  hands  of  Francoise  between  his  own, 
while  Francoise,  wounded  deeply  by  his  unsuspecting  kindness  and 
evident  fears  for  her  health,  bent  her  head  and  gratefully  kissed  her 
husband's  large  horny  fingers,  while  scalding  tears  plentifully  bedewed 
them. 

The  old  soldier,  becoming  momentarily  more  and  more  uneasy, 
exclaimed,  "  What  brings  these  tears  to  your  eyes,  my  poor  wife  ? 
Come — why  do  you  not  answer  me  ?  Tell  me  what  it  is  that  grieves  you 
so  ;  was  it  because  I  spoke  so  abruptly  when  I  found  fault  with  your 
letting  the  dear  children  go  out  with  your  neighbour?  Why,  now, 
look  here ;  you  see  their  poor  mother  gave  them  into  my  charge 
as  she  was  dying ;  and  you  understand — don't  you  ? —  that  such  a 
thing  as  that  is  as  sacred  as  one's  life,  or  soul  either.  So,  you  see,  I 
am  always  like  an  old  hen  fluttering  about  over  my  chickens,"  added 
he,  trying  to  be  facetious,  that  he  might  enliven  Francoise. 

"  And  you  are  quite  right  to  love  them  as  you  do." 

"  Come  now  !  cheer  up,  wife  ;  try  to  forget  what  I  said ;  why  you 
know  if  I  have  a  rough  voice,  I  have  not  a  rough  heart ;  and  since, 
of  course,  the  person  they  have  gone  out  with  is  a  friend  you  can 
trust  with  confidence,  why,  there  is  not  so  much  harm  done ;  but,  for 

24  BB 


370  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

• 

the  future,  my  good  Francoise,  you  must  never  do  these  things  with- 
out first  consulting  me.  1  suppose  the  children  asked  you  to  allow 
them  to  take  a  walk  with  Kill-joy  ?" 

"  No  !  husband,  I " 

••  No !  who  is  the  person  to  whom  you  have  intrusted  them  ? 
where  has  she  gone  with  them  ?  and  when  will  she  bring  them  back?" 

"  I — know  not,"  murmured  Francoise,  in  a  stifled  voice. 

"You  know  not?"  cried  Dagobert,  deeply  irritated;  then,  re- 
straining himself,  he  answered  in  a  tone  of  friendly  reproach,  "  you 
do  not  know  ?  Could  you  not  then  have  fixed  some  precise  period  for 
their  return,  or  rather  not  have  intrusted  them  to  any  hands  but  your 
own?  The  children,  no  doubt,  importuned  you,  till  you,  from  over- 
good  nature,  gave  them  leave  to  go  out ;  but  when  they  knew  that  I 
should  be  back  in  a  very  few  minutes,  why  did  they  not  wait  for  me, 
eh,  Francoise  ?  I  ask  you  why  did  they  not  wait  for  me  ?  Answer 
me,  will  you  ?  Upon  my  soul,"  cried  Dagobert,  stamping  with  rage 
he  could  no  longer  restrain,  "you  are  enough  to  make  a  saint  swear. 
Will  you  answer,  or  no  ?  " 

The  courage  of  the  unfortunate  woman  was  utterly  exhausted ; 
these  earnest  and  reiterated  questions,  which  must  end  in  eliciting  the 
full  truth,  made  her  suffer  -a  thousand  sharp  though  slow  agonies ;  she 
even  preferred  coming  to  the  worst  at  once,  and  determined,  like  a 
humble  and  devoted  victim,  to-  bear  the  full  weight  of  her  husband's 
wrath,  in  pursuance  of  the  promise  she  had  so  blindly  sworn  to  keep 
before  her  confessor  and  her  God. 

Too  feeble  to  rise,  she  bent  her  head ;  and  letting  an  arm  fall  at 
each  side  of  the  chair,  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest  distress, — 

"  Do  what  you  will  with  me,  but  ask  me  no  further  questions 
respecting  the  children,  because  I  cannot  answer  them." 

Had  a  thunder-bolt  fallen  at  the  soldier's  feet,  he  could  scarcely 
have  received  a  more  violent  or  severe  shock.  A  deadly  paleness 
succeeded  to  the  angry  suffusion  his  countenance  had  lately  worn ;  a 
cold,  clammy  dew  stood  upon  his  bald  forehead,  and  with  fixed,  stupi- 
fied  gaze,  he  remained  as  though  riveted  to  the  spot,  petrified, 
speechless  with  horror. 

*  Then,  as  though  by  some  strong  mental  effort,  shaking  off  this 
momentary  paralysation  of  his  faculties,  the  soldier,  with  terrible 
energy,  seized  his  wife  by  the  shoulders,  and  lifting  her  as  easily  as 
though  she  had  been  an  infant,  he  placed  her  standing  upright  before 
him ;  and  stooping  towards  her,  he  vociferated  in  a  voice  at  once 
terrifying  and  desperate, — 

"  The  children !  I  insist  upon  knowing  what  you  have  done  with 
them  1 " 

"  Mercy  I — mercy  !"  uttered  Francoise,  in  an  expiring  tone. 

"  Where  are  the  children  ? "  continued  Dagobert,  violently 
shaking  the  poor,  weak,  half-fainting  woman,  with  his  huge  powerful 
hands,  repeatedly  exclaiming  in  accents  of  thunder,  "  Will  you  answer 
me  ?  I  demand  to  know  what  has  become  of  my  children!  " 

"  Either  kill  me  or  pardon  me  ;  for  I  can  not — I  dare  not  answer  I" 
cried  the  unhappy  creature,  with  that  pertinacious  obstinacy  peculiar  to 
weak  and  timid  characters,  when  once  they  take  up  what  they  believe  a 
right  and  praiseworthy  line  of  action. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR.  371 

"  Wretched  woman !"  cried  the  soldier,  and  mad  with  rage,  grief, 
and  despair,  he  lifted  up  his  wife,  as  though  he  intended  to  dash  her 
on  the  floor ;  but  the  heart  of  the  brave  soldier  was  too  good — too 
noble  to  be  capable  of  so  cowardly  an  act ;  and  as  this  burst  of  fury 
subsided,  he  removed  his  grasp  from  the  terrified  being  his  iron  fingers 
might  have  annihilated ;  while  Fraucoise,  utterly  exhausted,  fell  upon 
her  knees,  clasped  her  hands,  and,  by  the  faint  motion  of  her  lips,  was 
evidently  engaged  in  deep  and  fervent  prayer. 

A  momentary  vertigo,  a  species  of  confusion  and  bewilderment, 
took  possession  of  Dagobert's  brain  ;  all  that  had  occurred  had  been 
so  sudden,  so  incomprehensible,  that  it  required  some  time  to  recover 
so  astounding  a  blow,  and  to  feel  convinced  that  one  so  good,  so 
amiable  as  his  wife,  she,  whose  whole  life  had  been  one  unbroken 
series  of  devoted  love  and  care  for  others,  could  possibly,  knowing,  as 
she  did,  the  important  charge  he  fulfilled  in  guarding  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon,  and  how  completely  his  own  happiness  and  honour 
were  involved  in  their  fate,  have  uttered  such  fearful  words  as  those  he 
hadjust  heard  from  her  lips,  "  Question  me  not  concerning  them,  since 
I  cannot  answer  you." 

The  strongest,  the  firmest  mind  would  have  been  shaken  by  a  fact 
so  inexplicable,  go  overwhelming,  so  incredible. 

But  with  his  usual  strong  sense,  the  soldier  boldly  looked  upon  the 
evil,  crushing  as  it  was,  and,  as  his  self-possession  returned,  and  reason 
resumed  its  empire,  he  reflected  thus : 

"  My  wife  alone  can  unravel  this  fearful  affair,  this  dark  mystery. 
I  will  not  lay  my  hands  on  her,  therefore,  to  injure  her  in  any  way  ; 
my  plan  will  be  to  employ  every  means  I  can  adopt  to  get  at  the  truth, 
and  to  induce  her  to  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know ;  for  that  purpose,  I 
must  carefully  avoid  giving  way  to  anything  like  impatience  or  anger, 
and,  whatever  may  be  my  feelings,  I  must  restrain  them." 

Thus  wisely  reflecting,  Dagobert  took  a  chair,  and  shewing  another 
to  his  wife,  who  was  still  kneeling  and  murmuring  low  prayers,  he 
said, 

"  Sit  down!" 

Exhausted  and  submissive,  Francoise  obeyed. 

"  Listen  to  me,  wife,"  pursued  Dagobert,  in  a  short,  dry,  and  un- 
steady voice,  interrupted  by  continued  involuntary  catchings  of  the 
breath,  betraying  the  impatience  he  strove  so  hard  to  conceal. 
"  Now,  you  cannot  for  an  instant  suppose  things  can  go  on  in  this 
way.  You  see,  I  am  not  going  to  use  any  violence  towards  you ;  just 
now  I  know  I  gave  way  to  my  first  angry  feelings — but — I  shall  not 
do  that  again,  and  am  very  sorry  now  that  I  so  far  forgot  myself;  so  lay 
aside  all  fear.  But  I  really  must  have  you  tell  me  where  the  dear 
children  are;  their  mother — their  dying  mother  intrusted  them  to  me; 
and  you  must  needs  think,  I  did  not  bring  them  all  the  way  from 
Siberia  hither,  for  you  to  say  to  me,  as  you  are  doing  now,  '  Don't 
ask  me  any  questions,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  have  done  with, 
them ! '  These  words  are  not  reasons — there  is  no  sense  in  them. 
Suppose,  now,  Marshal  Simon  were  to  arrive  in  a  hurry,  and  come  to 
me,  saying,  'Well,  Dagobert,  where  are  ray  daughters?'  now  what 
should  I  say  to  him  in  reply  ?  You  see  I  am  talking  quite  friendly 
with  you,  not  a  bit  put  out,  but  as  calm  and  as  cool  as  can  be.  Now 


372  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

just  put  yourself  in  my  place.  Now  what  should  you  say  if  you  were 
me  when  the  marshal  asked  you  for  his  children,  eh  ?  But  speak — 
answer  me — why  the  devil  don't  you  speak  ?"  cried  the  poor  fellow, 
whose  temper  and  patience  were  rapidly  failing  him. 

"  Alas  !— alas  I" 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  the  soldier,  wiping  his  forehead,  whose  veins  were 
swollen  and  distended  almost  to  bursting.  "  Oh's  and  ah's  are  no 
answer  to  my  questions ;  I  ask  you  what  am  I  to  say  to  the  marshal 
when  he  inquires  for  his  daughters  ?  " 

"  Tell  him  I  am  the  guilty  person.  I  will  bear  all  his  anger.  I 
will  tell  all." 

"  What  will  you  tell  ?  " 

"  That  you  confided  to  me  the  two  dear  children,  that  you  went 
out,  and  not  finding  them  on  your  return,  questioned  me  as  to  what 
had  become  of  them,  and  that  I  refused  to  answer  your  questions  con- 
cerning them." 

"  And  do  you  for  one  instant  suppose  that  the  marshal  will  be 
Contented  with  such  an  explanation  as  that?"  said  Dagobert,  convul- 
sively pressing  his  clenched  fists  on  his  knees. 

"  Unfortunately,  they  are  the  only  reasons  I  can  give  either  to  him 
or  to  you ;  though  I  were  even  stricken  by  the  hand  of  death,  I  dare 
reveal  no  more." 

As  these  last  wofds,  pronounced  as  they  were  with  desperate  re- 
signation, sounded  in  Dagobert's  ear,  the  old  man  sprung  from  his 
seat,  his  patience  utterly  exhausted,  but  unwilling  to  break  out  into 
fresh  acts  of  violence  or  threats,  which  he  well  knew  would  be  alike 
powerless,  he  rose  abruptly,  threw  open  one  of  the  windows,  and  ex- 
posed his  burning  forehead  to  the  cool  fresh  air  from  without ;  then 
becoming  a  little  calmer,  he  took  one  or  two  turns  up  and  down  the 
chamber  and  returned  to  seat  himself  beside  his  wife,  who,  with  eyes 
from  which  rained  plentiful  tears,  sat  attentively  gazing  on  a  figure  of 
Christ  crucified,  thinking  that  she,  too,  had  a  heavy  cross  laid  on  her, 
almost  beyond  her  strength  to  bear. 

Dagobert,  with  assumed  composure,  proceeded  to  say,  "  It  is  very 
clear  from  your  manner  of  speaking,  that  at  least  the  disappearance  of 
the  children  is  not  the  effect  of  any  sickness  or  accident  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  God  be  praised  they  are  perfectly  well ;  and  that  is  all 
I  can  tell  you  ! " 

"  Did  they  go  from  here  alone  ?" 

"  I  cannot  answer  your  question ! " 

"  Were  they  taken  away  by  any  one  ?" 

"  Alas,  alas!  dear  husband,  why  persist  in  putting  questions  to 
me  I  have  already  assured  j'ou  I  cannot  answer  ?  " 

"  Will  they  return  here?" 

"  I  know  not." 

Again  Dagobert  arose  for  a  second  time ;  he  found  his  patience  fail- 
ing him,  and  once  more  he  tried  to  calm  himself  by  pacing  the  small 
chamber ;  after  a  few  turns,  he  returned  and  seated  himself  beside  his  wife. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  you  cannot  possibly  have  any  interest  in  con- 
cealing from  me  where  these  childrenjare ;  why,  then,  do  you  refuse  to 
satisfy  me  as  to  what  has  become  of  them?" 

"  Because  I  have  no  power  to  act  otherwise  than  I  ani  doing." 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CONFESSOR.  373 

"  I  think  you  will  alter  your  opinion  when  you  know  one  thing, 
which  circumstances  now  compel  me  to  acquaint  you  with.  Attend 
to  me  then  ! "  continued  Dagobert,  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion.  "  If 
these  two  young  girls  are  not  brought  back  by  the  evening  before  the 
13th  of  February — and  you  know  we  are  close  upon  it — you  place  me 
in  the  situation  of  a  man  who  has  actually  robbed  and  plundered  the 
daughters  of  Marshal  Simon.  Mark  me  well !  I  say,  robbed  and 
plundered  them  ;  yet,"  continued  the  soldier,  in  a  tone  of  such  heart- 
felt misery  and  anguish  as  struck  to  the  heart  of  Fran9oise,  "  I  did 
all  that  lay  in  an  honest  man's  power  to  conduct  the  poor  things 
through  their  journey,  and  you  little  know  all  I  underwent  on  the 
road  ;  you  cannot  imagine  the  care,  the  uneasiness  I  experienced  ;  for, 
let  me  tell  you,  that  for  an  old  fellow  like  me  to  have  the  sole  charge 
of  two  helpless  young  creatures  like  them,  is  such  a  weight  on  his 
mind,  that  nothing  but  downright  courage  and  a  fixed  determination 
to  do  his  duty  can  help  him  through  with  it ;  and  when  all  that  kept 
me  going,  and  inspired  me  with  resolution  to  bear  up  against  whatever 
might  happen,  was  the  idea  of  being  able  one  day  to  say  to  Marshal 
Simon,  '  There  are  your  daughters  I ' "  the  old  soldier  could  proceed  no 
farther ;  to  his  first  burst  of  fury  succeeded  the  most  affecting  grief, 
and  unable  to  bear  the  afflicting  reverse  he  had  just  described  to  all 
his  proudly  cherished  hopes  of  restoring  Rose  and  Blanche  to  their 
father's  arms,  the  old  veteran  sighed  as  though  his  heart  would 
break,  while  bitter  tears  coursed  rapidly  down  his  weather-beaten 
cheeks. 

At  the  sight  of  the  large  drops,  which  fell  even  on  the  thick  grey 
moustache  of  Dagobert,  Francoise  felt  her  resolution  beginning  to 
fail  her,  but  quickly  recalling  the  solemn  promise  she  had  made  to  her 
confessor,  and  firmly  believing  that  the  more  firmness  she  displayed, 
the  better  would  it  be  for  the  immortal  souls  of  the  orphans,  she 
mentally  reproached  herself  for  her  weakness,  for  which  she  knew  the 
Abbe  Dubois  would  also  severely  reprehend  her.  She  contented  her- 
self therefore  with  asking,  in  a  timid  voice, — 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  saying  just  now,  that  you  might  be 
accused  of  wronging  and  plundering  these  poor  dear  children  ?  " 

"  Hearken,  then ! "  replied  Dagobert,  passing  his  hard  hand  across 
his  eyes;  "the  cause  of  these  young  girls  having  travelled  so  many 
thousand  miles,  and  endured  such  hardships  on  the  road,  coming  all 
the  way  hither  from  the  remotest  parts  of  Siberia,  is  because  matters 
of  immense  interest  to  them,  perhaps  the  obtaining  a  princely  fortune, 
depend  on  their  being  in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  here  in  Paris,  on  the 
13th  of  February.  If  they  do  not  present  themselves,  all  chance  is 
for  ever  lost  to  them ;  and  all  through  me — for  I  am  responsible  for 
whatever  mistakes  or  errors  you  commit,  as  well  as  for  all  the  dreadful 
consequences  that  may  result  from  the  ill-advised  step  you  have  this 
day  taken." 

"  The  13th  of  February  !  Rue  Saint  Francois  1"  said  Francoise, 
regarding  her  husband  with  extreme  surprise ;  "  that  is  just  like 
Gabriel." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  like  Gabriel?" 

"  Yes !  when  I  first  received  him,  the  poor  deserted  infant  wore 
round  his  neck  a  bronze  medal." 


374  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  A  medal  of  bronze  ! "  cried  the  old  soldier,  struck  with  astonish- 
ment ;  "  did  it  bear  these  words,  '  You  shall  be  in  Paris,  Rue  Saint 
Francois,  on  the  13th  of  February,  1832  ?  " 

"  Precisely  the  very  words  I  but  how  did  you  know  them  ?  " 
"  Gabriel,  also ! "  said  the  soldier,  speaking  to  himself.     "  And 
does  Gabriel  know  of  this  medal  having  been  found  on  him?" 

"  I  mentioned  it  to  him  when  he  grew  old  enough  to  understand  it. 
There  was  also  in  a  pocket  of  his  dress  a  case  containing  several 
papers,  all  written  in  a  strange  language ;  all  of  which  I  carried  to  my 
confessor,  the  Abbe  Dubois,  thinking  he  might  be  able  to  make  them 
out,  and  he  afterwards  told  me  the  whole  of  the  papers  were  quite  un- 
important. Some  time  afterwards,  when  a  charitable  person,  named 
Rodin,  undertook  to  educate  Gabriel,  and  to  obtain  his  admission  into 
a  seminary,  Abbe  Dubois  delivered  all  the  writings,  with  the  medal,  into 
the  hands  of  M.  Rodin,  since  which  time  I  have  never  heard  any 
mention  of  them." 

As  Francoise  spoke  of  her  confessor,  a  sudden  light  darted  across 
the  mind  of  the  soldier,  who,  however,  was  far  from  suspecting  the 
continual  plots  and  machinations  which  had  for  so  long  a  period  been 
working  both  against  the  orphans  and  Gabriel. 

Dagobert,  however,  began  to  have  a  vague  and  undefinable  belief 
that  his  wife's  present  conduct  arose  out  of  some  order  issued  from  the 
confessional — an  interference,  the  aim  and  motive  of  which  was  beyond 
his  power  to  understand,  but  which  served  to  account,  in  a  great 
measure,  for  the  immovable  obstinacy  of  Francoise  in  persisting  in 
concealing  the  retreat  of  the  orphans. 

After  a  short  period  of  reflection,  he  abruptly  rose,  and  gazing 
fixedly  on  his  wife,  he  said,  in  a  severe  tone, — 
"  Some  priest  is  mixed  up  with  all  this." 

"  Husband,  for  heaven's  sake " 

"  You  cannot,  on  your  own  account,  have  the  least  interest  in 
keeping  me  in  ignorance  of  where  the  children  are  hid.  You  are  as 
good  a  wife  as  ever  man  had.  You  see  what  misery  I  am  suffering. 
Oh,  if  you  acted  only  by  your  own  advice,  you  would  take  pity  on  me, 
you  could  not  bear  to  see  my  wretchedness." 
"  Husband  I  I  beseech  you,  cease." 

"I  tell  you,"  continued  Dagobert,  "all  this  speaks  of  the  con- 
fessional. You  are  sacrificing  me,  and  those  poor  motherless  girls,  to 
the  cold-blooded  dictates  of  your  confessor ;  but  take  care.  I  will  find 
out  where  he  lives,  and,  bombs  and  mortars  !  I'll  go  and  just  ask  him 
whether  he  expects  he  or  I  am  to  be  master  in  my  little  home,  and  if 
he  refuses  to  answer,  why,  then,"  said  the  soldier,  while  fire  flashed 
from  his  eye,  and  his  whole  countenance  assumed  a  threatening  expres- 
sion, "  I  will  find  a  way  to  make  him !" 

"  God  of  heaven  ! "  almost  shrieked  Francoise,  clasping  her  hands 
with  terror,  and  shuddering  at  hearing  such  sacrilegious  words ;  "  a 
priest — think  of  what  you  are  saying — a  priest  I" 

"  A  priest  who  introduces  discord,  treachery,  and  wretchedness  into 
a  house,  is  as  unworthy  and  despicable  a  creature  as  the  veriest 
scoundrel  that  walks  the  earth,  and  is  equally  bound  to  account  to 
me  for  all  the  mischief  he  has  occasioned  both  to  me  and  mine.  There- 
fore, once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  I  say,  tell  me  where  are  the 


• 

^ 


THE    THREAT; 
P.    875. 


THE  INTERROGATORY.  375 

children  ?  and  if  you  still  refuse,  I  give  you  due  warning,  I  shall  go 
and  demand  them  at  the  hands  of  your  confessor.  There  is  some  piece 
of  devilish  design  going  on, — some  plot,  in  which  you,  wretched  woman! 
are  an  accomplice  without  knowing  it.  Besides,  I  would  rather  have 
any  one  to  quarrel  with  than  you ;  therefore,  your  confessor  shall  take 
your  place  and  answer  for  you." 

"  Husband!"  cried  Franchise,  in  a  firm  though  gentle  tone,  "you 
deceive  yourself  if  you  expect  to  terrify,  by  your  violence,  a  worthy 
and  respectable  old  man,  who,  for  twenty  years,  has  had  the  care  of 
my  soul." 

"  No  age  shall  protect  him  from  my  just  rage  and  indignation." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  where  are  you  going  ?  you  terrify  me  !" 

"  I  am  going  to  your  church,  you  cannot  fail  being  known  thefe. 
I  will  inquire  for  your  confessor,  and  then  we  shall  see." 

"  For  God's  sake,  husband  !  "  exclaimed  Francoise,  much  alarmed, 
and  interposing  herself  between  Dagobert  and  the  door,  towards  which 
he  was  hurrying,  "think  of  what  you  are  exposing  yourself  to. 
Mother  of  heaven — insult  a  priest !  do  you  not  know  that  that  is  a  sin 
for  which  there  is  no  absolution,  a  reserved  case  ?" 

In  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  Francoise  believed  these  last  wocds 
almost  capable  of  annihilating  the  person  they  were  addressed  to  ;  but 
the  soldier,  neither  comprehending  nor  caring  for  them,  broke  away 
from  the  feeble  grasp  of  his  wife,  and  would  have  rushed  out  bare- 
headed as  he  was  —  so  great  was  his  rage  and  exasperation — when  at 
this  instant  the  door  opened. 

It  was  the  commissary  of  police,  followed  by  La  Mayeux,  and  the 
police-officer,  carrying  the  bundle  taken  from  the  poor  girl. 

"  Oh,  the  commissary  I"  cried  Dagobert,  recognising  him  by  his 
scarf.  "  Ah  I  so  much  the  better — he  could  not  have  come  more 
opportunely." 


CHAPTER    LIV. 

THE  INTERROGATORY. 

"  MADAME  Francoise  Baudoin  ?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  I  am  here,  sir,"  replied  Francoise ;  and  then  seeing  La  Mayeux, 
who,  pale  and  trembling,  dared  not  advance,  she  stretched  out  her 
arms  to  her,  "  Ah,  my  poor  girl  I"  she  exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears, 
"pardon,  pardon  —  it  is  for  us,  again,  that  you  have  suffered  this 
humiliation." 

After  Dagobert's  wife  had  tenderly  embraced  the  young  work-girl, 
La  Mayeux,  turning  towards  the  commissary,  said  to  him,  with  an 
expression  of  sad  but  touching  dignity  : 

"  You  see,  sir,  I  have  not  stolen." 

"  Then,  madame,"  said  the  magistrate,  addressing  Francoise,  "  the 
silver  cup,  the  shawl,  and  the  sheets,  contained  in  this  bundle  ?" 

"  Were  mine,  sir  I   and  it  was  to  render  me  a  service  that  this  dear 


376  THE  WANDEBfcpa  JEW, 


girl,  the  best,  most  honest  creature  in  the  world,  was  so  kind  as  to 
undertake  to  carry  those  things  to  the  inont  de  piete." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate  to  the  police  agent,  in  a  tone  of  severity, 
"you  have  committed  a  deplorable  error.  I  shall  report  you,  in 
order  that  you  may  be  punished.  Go  !  "  Then  addressing  himself  to 
La  Mayeux,  with  an  air  which  shewed  how  much  he  was  pained,  he 
added,  "  Unfortunately,  mademoiselle,  I  can  only  express  to  you  my 
sincere  regret  for  what  has  occurred,  and,  believe  me,  I  am  sincerely 
sorry  for  all  the  distress  which  this  shameful  mistake  has  caused  you." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  sir,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "and  I  thank  you  very 
much." 

She  then  sat  down,  quite  overwhelmed,  for,  after  such  severe  trials, 
her  courage  and  strength  were  quite  exhausted. 

The  magistrate  was  about  to  withdraw,  when  Dagobert,  who,  for 
some  minutes,  had  been  lost  in  reflection,  said,  in  a  firm  voice, 

"  Sir,  be  so  good  as  listen  to  me,  I  have  a  deposition  to  make." 

"  Make  it,  sir." 

"  What  I  am  about  to  say  is  very  important,  sir  :  it  is  before  you, 
as  a  magistrate,  that  I  make  this  declaration,  in  order  that  you  may 
take  cognizance  of  it." 

"  It  is  as  a  magistrate,  sir,  that  I  listen  to  you." 

"  I  arrived  here  two  days  since,  and  I  brought  with  me,  from  Russia, 
two  young  ladies,  who  have  been  intrusted  to  my  c"are  by  theii  mother, 
the  lady  of  M.  the  Marshal  Simon." 

"  Of  Marshal  the  Due  de  Ligny  ?  "  said  the  commissary,  greatly 
surprised. 

"  Yes,  sir  !  Yesterday  I  left  them  here,  being  obliged  to  go  away 
on  very  urgent  business.  This  morning,  during  my  absence,  they 
have  disappeared,  and  I  am  certain  that  I  know  the  man  who  has 
removed  them." 

"Husband  !"  exclaimed  Francoise,  alarmed. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  your  declaration  is  of  the  most  serious 
nature,  a  disappearance  of  persons  —  putting  out  of  the  way  designedly 
and  forcibly,  perhaps  ;  but  are  you  perfectly  sure  ?" 

"  The  young  girls  were  here  an  hour  ago,  and  I  repeat  to  you,  sir, 
that  they  were  removed,  carried  off  during  my  absence." 

"  I  cannot  doubt  the  sincerity  of  your  declaration,  sir  ;  still  so 
sudden  a  carrying  off  is  difficult  to  account  for.  Besides,  who  has  told 
you  that  these  young  ladies  will  not  return  ?  and  whom  do  you 
suspect  ?  One  word,  too,  before  you  depose  to  so  serious  an  accusa- 
tion. Remember  that  it  is  the  magistrate  who  listens  to  you,  and 
when  I  leave  here,  it  is  possible  that  justice  may  take  this  affair  in 
hand." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  I  wish,  sir.  I  am  responsible  for  these 
young  girls  to  their  father,  who  may  arrive  at  any  moment,  and  I  must 
justify  myself." 

"  I  comprehend,  sir,  all  your  reasons  ;  but  once  more,  take  care 
that  you  do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  carried  away  by  suspicions  which 
are  probably  without  foundation.  Your  denunciation  once  made,  I 
may  be  compelled  to  act  on  the  preventive  instantly  against  the  person 
whom  you  accuse.  If  you  are,  therefore,  guilty  of  any  mistake,  the 


THE  INTERROGATORY.  877 

consequences  to  yourself  may  be  very  distressing,  and,  not  to  go  far- 
ther," said  the  magistrate  with  feeling,  and  looking  at  La  Mayeux, 
"you  see  what  are  the  results  of  a  false  accusation." 

"  My  dear — you  hear  !"  exclaimed  Frai^oise,  still  more  and  more 
alarmed  at  Dagobert's  resolution  with  respect  to  the  Abbe  Dubois. 
"  I  beseech  you,  do  not  say  another  word." 

But  the  soldier,  the  more  he  reflected,  the  more  he  was  con- 
vinced that  the  influence  of  Franchise's  confessor  alone  had  decided 
her  on  acting  as  she  had  done  in  keeping  silence,  and  he,  therefore, 
said  with  firmness, — 

"  I  accuse  the  confessor  of  my  wife  of  being  the  author,  or  the 
accomplice,  in  carrying  off1  the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon." 

Franyoise  gave  a  deep  groan,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands ; 
whilst  La  Mayeux,  who  had  drawn  near  her,  endeavoured  to  comfort 
her. 

The  magistrate  had  listened  to  Dagobert's  statement  with  deep 
astonishment,  and  said  to  him,  with  much  seriousness, — 

"But,  sir,  do  not  accuse  unjustly  a  man  invested  with  an  irre- 
proachable character — a  priest.  It  is  a  priest,  sir,  who  is  here  charged, 
and  I  warn  you,  that  you  ought  to  reflect,  —  this  is  the  more  serious, 
too,  at  your  age,  when  any  accusation  made  groundlessly  would  be 
inexcusable." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Dagobert,  impatiently,  "  at  my  age  one  has  com- 
mon sense  :  the  facts  are  these.  My  wife  is  the  best,  the  most  con- 
scientious of  women.  Ask  her  character  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
you  will  hear  that.  But  she  is  a  devotee ;  and  for  twenty  years  has 
seen  through  no  eyes  but  those  of  her  confessor.  She  adores  her  son, 
and  loves  me  well  too  ;  but  above  my  son  and  myself  has  always  been 
placed  the  confessor." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  commissary,  "  these  family  details " 

"  Are  indispensable,  as  you  will  see.  I  went,  not  an  hour  ago,  to 
rescue  poor  La  Mayeux,  and  on  my  return  the  young  girls  had  dis- 
appeared. I  ask  my  wife,  with  whom  I  had  left  them,  where  they 
are  ?  She  falls  on  her  knees,  sobbing,  and  says,  '  Do  what  you  please 
to  me,  but  do  not  ask  what  has  become  of  the  children — I  cannot  tell 
you.' " 

"Is  this  true,  madame?"  inquired  the  commissary,  looking  at 
Francoise  with  great  surprise. 

"  Anger,  threats,  prayers,  were  useless,"  resumed  Dagobert ;  "  to 
all  she  has  replied,  with  the  resignation  of  a  saint,  '  I  cannot  tell  you 
anything.'  Well,  sir,  this  is  what  I  assert,  my  wife  has  no  interest  in 
the  disappearance  of  these  children,  but  she  is  under  the  complete 
domination  of  her  confessor,  and  acts  by  his  direction.  She  is  but  the 
tool — he  is  the  guilty  hand." 

As  Dagobert  spoke,  the  commissary's  countenance  became  more 
and  more  fixed  on  Francoise,  who,  supported  by  La  Mayeux,  was 
weeping  bitterly. 

After  having  reflected  for  a  moment,  the  magistrate  advanced  a  step 
towards  Francoise  and  said, 

"  Madame,  you  have  heard  what  your  husband  has  stated  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 


878  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  in  justification  ?" 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Dagobert,  "  it  is  not  my  wife  that  I  accuse.  I  do 
not  mean  that.  It  is  her  confessor." 

"  Sir,  you  have  made  your  complaint  to  a  magistrate,  and  it  is  now 
for  tho  magistrate  to  act  as  he  thinks  best  for  the  discovery  of  the 
truth.  Once  again,  madame,"  he  resumed,  addressing  Francoise, 
"  what  have  you  to  say  in  order  to  justify  yourself?" 

"  Alas,  sir,  nothing." 

"  Is  it  true  that  your  husband  left  the  young  girls  under  your  care 
when  he  went  out  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  I" 

"Is  it  true  that  when  he  returned  they  were  gone?" 

"  Yes,  sir  I" 

"  Is  it  true  that,  when  he  asked  you  where  they  were,  you  replied, 
that  you  could  not  tell  him  anything  about  it?"  and  the  commissary 
appeared  to  await  Franchise's  reply  with  anxious  curiosity. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said  simply  and  undisguisedly.  "  I  did  reply  so  to 
my  husband." 

The  magistrate  almost  started  with  the  surprise  which  this  answer 
excited. 

"  What,  madame !  to  all  the  prayers — all  the  entreaties  of  your 
husband,  you  have  only  given  this  reply  ?  What !  have  you  refused 
to  give  him  any  information  ?  That  is  hardly  probable  or  possible." 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  truth,  sir." 

"  But,  really,  madame,  what  has  become  of  the  young  girls  who 
were  intrusted  to  your  care  ?" 

"  I  can  say  nothing  about  it,  sir.  If  I  have  refused  to  tell  my  poor 
husband,  I  shall  certainly  not  tell  any  other  person." 

"Well,  now,  sir,  was  I  wrong?"  inquired  Dagobert.  "  An  upright 
and  excellent  wife,  always  full  of  good  sense,  and  free  from  selfishness, 
how  could  she  speak  in  such  a  way  I  It  is  not  natural !  I  repeat,  sir, 
it  is  the  confessor  who  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  Let  us  go  to  work 
with  him  instantly  and  vigorously.  We  will  discover  all,  and  my  poor 
children  will  be  restored  to  me." 

The  commissary  said  to  Francoise  (and  he  was  unable  to  repress 
his  emotion), 

"Madame,  I  must  speak  to  you  with  severity — my  duty  compels 
me.  This  affair  is  so  serious  and  complicated,  that  I  must  necessarily 
make  justice  cognisant  of  the  facts.  You  acknowledge  that  these 
young  girls  were  intrusted  to  you,  and  you  cannot  bring  them  before 
us.  Now  listen  to  me  attentively  :  if  you  refuse  to  give  me  any 
information  on  this  subject,  you — and  you  alone — will  be  accused  with 
their  disappearance ;  and  I,  to  my  extreme  regret,  shall  be  obliged  to 
apprehend  you  on  that  charge." 

"  Me  ?"  exclaimed  Francoise,  with  great  terror. 

"My  wife  !"  cried  Dagobert,  "never I  Once  again,  I  tell  you,  it 
is  her  confessor,  and  not  her,  whom  I  accuse.  Apprehend  my  poor 
wife  !" 

And  he  ran  towards  her  as  if  to  shield  her  with  his  protection. 

"  Sir,  it  is  too  late,"  said  the  commissary  :  "  you  have  made  your 
deposition,  complaining  of  the  carrying  off  of  the  two  young  girls,  and 


THE  INTERROGATORY.  879 

» 

after  the  statements  of  your  wife  herself,  she  alone,  up  to  this  time,  is 
the  only  party  compromised  in  the  affair.  I  must  take  her  before  the 
Attorney-General,  who  will  give  his  opinion  as  to  the  next  steps  to  be 
taken." 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  my  wife  shall  not  leave  this  house !"  said 
Dagobcrt,  in  a  threatening  tone. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  commissary,  calmly,  "  I  understand  your 
vexation,  but,  for  the  sake  of  truth,  I  conjure  you  not  to  make  any 
opposition  to  a  step  which  in  ten  minutes  time  it  will  be  utterly  impossi- 
ble for  you  to  prevent." 

These  words,  said  mildly  but  firmly,  recalled  the  soldier  to 
himself. 

"  But,  indeed,  indeed,  sir  1"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  not  my  wife  that 
I  accuse." 

"  Oh,  do  not  mind  me,  my  husband  !"  said  the  wife — a  martyr  as 
she  was — with  the  resignation  of  a  saint,  "  the  Lord  will  try  me  sorely: 
I  am  His  unworthy  servant ;  I  must  accept  His  pleasure  with  gratitude. 
Let  me  be  arrested,  if  so  it  must  be,  I  will  not  say  in  prison  more  than 
I  have  said  here  on  the  subject  of  the  poor  dear  children." 

"  But,  sir,  you  see  my  poor  wife's  head  wanders,"  said  Dagobert, 
"  you  cannot  arrest  her." 

"  There  is  no  charge,  no  proof,  no  suspicion,  against  the  other 
person  whom  you  accuse,  and  his  character  is  his  defence ;  I  must 
take  your  wife.  I  regret  excessively,  sir,"  added  the  commissary, 
in  a  compassionate  tone,  "  to  have  such  a  duty  to  discharge,  and  that, 
too,  at  the  moment  when  your  son  has  been  apprehended,  which 
must " 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  looking  in  painful  amazement  at  his 
wife  and  La  Mayeux,  "  what  does  he  say  ?  my  son " 

"  What!  did  you  not  know  it  ?  Oh,  sir,  a  thousand  pardons!" said 
the  magistrate,  deeply  grieved :  "  it  is  most  distressing  to  me  to  have 
informed  you  of  this." 

" My  son  I"  repeated  Dagobert,  lifting  both  his  hands  to  his  brow; 
"  my  son  arrested  !" 

"  For  a  political  offence,  of  but  slight  importance,"  said  the 
commissary. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  too  much — all  comes  upon  me  at  once !"  said  the 
soldier,  falling  on  a  chair  in  a  state  of  utter  distress,  and  hiding  his  face 

with  his  hands. 

*  *  *  * 

After  an  affecting  farewell,  during  which  Fran^oise  remained,  in 
spite  of  all  her  misery,  firm  to  the  oath  she  had  made  to  the  Abbe 
Dubois,  Dagobert,  who  had  refused  to  go  and  make  a  deposition 
against  his  wife,  was  leaning  on  a  table  overwhelmed  by  his  extreme 
emotion,  and  said, 

"  Yesterday  I  had  with  me  wife,  son,  my  two  poor  orphans,  and 
now — I  am  alone — alone  !" 

At  the  moment  he  liad  uttered  these  words  in  a  faltering  voice,  a 
gentle  and  saddened  tone  behind  him  said  timidly, — 

"  M.  Dagobert,  I  am  here ;  and,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  wait 
upon  you — I  will  remain  with  you," 

It  was  La  Mayeux. 


380  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 


PART  V. 


THE    QUEEN. BACCHANAL, 


CHAPTER   LV. 


THE  MASQUERADING. 


THE  morning  after  the  day  on  which  Dagobert's  wife  had  been 
conducted  by  the  commissary  of  police  before  the  Jnge  d  'Instruction, 
a  noisy  and  animated  scene  was  passing  in  the  Place  du  Chatelet,  in 
front  of  a  house  of  which  the  first  floor  and  ground-floor  were  then 
occupied  by  the  extensive  saloons  of  an  eating-house  which  bore  the 
sign  of  the  Sucking  Calf. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Shrove-Tuesday. 

A  considerable  number  of  masks,  grotesquely  and  meanly  attired, 
were  coming  from  the  balls  of  the  cabarets  situated  in  the  quarter 
of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  singing  as  they  crossed  the  Place  du  Cha- 
telet ;  but,  seeing  another  body  of  maskers  coming  towards  the  Quay, 
the  first  groups  stopped  to  listen  to  the  renewed  shouts  of  mirth  and 
joy,  in  the  hope  of  witnessing  one  of  those  rencontres  of  the  wit 
which  are  larded  with  loose  terms  and  with  those  fish-fag  gesticulations 
which  Vade  has  illustrated. 

This  mob,  all  of  whom  were  more  or  less  inebriated,  soon  in- 
creased by  the  arrival  of  many  persons  whose  occupations  compelled 
them  to  traverse  Paris  at  a  very  early  hour ;  and  it  was  suddenly 
concentrated  in  one  of  the  angles  of  the  square  so  compactly,  that  a 
young,  pale,  deformed  girl,  who  was  crossing  at  this  moment,  was 
entirely  surrounded. 

This  girl  was  the  poor  La  Mayeux,  who  had  risen  with  daybreak 
to  go  out  and  seek  for  some  pieces  of  linen  from  the  person  who 
employed  her.  We  may  imagine  the  fears  of  the  poor  workwoman, 
who  involuntarily  stopped  in  the  midst  of  this  crowd  of  revellers.  She 
recollected  the  cruel  scene  of  the  previous  evening ;  but,  in  spite  of 
her  efforts  (alas !  but  weak  ones),  she  could  not  advance  a  step ;  for 
the  band  of  maskers  who  had  just  arrived,  desirous  to  join  those  who 
were  there  previously,  one  body  came  in  one  direction  and  the  other  in 
another ;  and  La  Mayeux,  being  in  the  midst  of  the  latter,  was  literally 
carried  on  by  the  mass  of  the  people,  and  thrown  amongst  the  group 
that  was  nearest  to  the  house  of  entertainment. 

The  new  masks  were  better  dressed  than  the  others,  and  belonged 


THE  MASQUERADING.  381 

to  that  noisy  class  who  frequent  la  C/iartmiere,  le  Prado,  le  Colysee, 
and  those  other  dancing  gardens,  more  or  less  riotous,  generally  filled 
by  students,  shop-girls,  clerks,  senipstresses,  &c.  &c. 

This  party,  who  M-ere  quite  ready  to  keep  up  a  fire  of  jokes  with 
the  first  comer,  seemed  to  be  awaiting  impatiently  the  arrival  of  some 
person  whose  presence  was  greatly  desired. 

The  following  conversation,  carried  on  between  Pierrots  and  Pier- 
rettes, dcbardeurs  and  dcbardettses,  Turks  and  Sultanas,  and  other 
couples,  may  give  some  idea  of  the  importance  of  the  personages  so 
anxiously  waited  for : — 

"  The  breakfast  is  ordered  for  seven  o'clock,  the  carriages  ought 
to  be  here  by  this  time." 

"  Yes  ;  but  the  Queen-Bacchanal  would  lead  off  another  set  in  the 
Prado" 

"  If  I  had  known  that,  I  could  have  remained  to  sec  my  adored 
queen." 

"  Gobinet,  if  you  call  her  your  adored  queen,  I'll  scratch  your 
eyes  out !  and  there  's  a  pinch  for  you,  as  earnest." 

"  Celeste,  be  quiet !  You  will  make  black  patches  on  the  white 
satin  skin  which  my  mother  was  kind  enough  to  adorn  me  with  at  my 
birth." 

"  How  dare  you  call  this  bacchanal  your  adored  queen  ?  What  am 
I,  then,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  You  are  my  adored,  but  not  my  queen  ;  for  as  there  is  but  one 
moon  in  the  nights  of  nature,  so  there  is  but  one  bacchanal  in  the 
nights  of  the  Prado." 

'  Oh,  that 's  all  very  fine,  you  good-for-nothing  fellow,  you  ! " 

'  Gobinet 's  right — the  queen  was  magnificent  last  evening." 

'  And  in  tip-top  spirits ! " 

'  I  never  saw  lier  more  animated  1 " 

'  And  what  a  dress  1 — marvellous  1 " 

'  Splendid ! " 

'Magnificent  I" 

'  Pulverising ! " 

'  Fulminating  I " 

'  No  one  but  she  can  invent  such  costume ! " 

'  And  what  a  dance  I " 

'  Yes :  it  was  at  the  same  time  bounding,  undulating,  and  ser- 
pentining. Never  before  was  there  such  a  pas  de  Bayadere  under  the 
canopy  of  heaven  I " 

"  Gobinet,  give  me  my  shawl  immediately  :  you  have  quite  spoiled 
it  by  tying  it  round  your  great  fat  waist.  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
have  my  best  things  spoiled  for  nasty  fellows  who  call  other  women 
Bayaderes  /  " 

"  Lovely  Celeste,  calm  thy  anger !  I  am  disguised  as  a  Turk ; 
and  when  I  mention  Bayaderes,  I'm  quite  in  character." 

"  Your  Celeste  is  like  the  rest  of  the  women  :  Gobinet,  she's 
jealous  of  the  Queen-Bacchanal." 

"  1 1— me  jealous  I  Well,  really  I  If  I  would  be  ai  bold  as  she, 
perhaps  I  might  be  as  much  talked  about.  After  all,  what  makes  her 
reputation  ?  Why,  because  she  has  a  nickname." 


382  TUB  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Well,  in  that  respect  you  have  nothing  to  envy  her  for :  your 
name  is  Celeste — heavenly  I" 

•'  You  know,  Gobinet,  that  Celeste  is  my  real  name." 

•  •  Yes ;  but  when  one  looks  at  you,  it  seems  as  if  it  were  a  nick- 
name." 

"  Sir,  I  '11  give  you  something  to  make  you  remember  it !  I  '11  add 
that  to  your  account." 

"  And  Oscar  will  help  you  to  add  it  up — won't  he  ?  " 

••  Perhaps,  and  you  shall  see  the  total :  I  will  put  down  the  one 
and  retain  the  other,  and  that  other  shall  not  be  you  I " 

"  Celeste,  you  pain  me.  I  meant  to  say  that  your  angelic  name  is 
not  in  unison  with  your  delicious  little  face,  which  has  that  air  of  sly 
mischief  wholly  different  from  the  Queen-Bacchanal." 

"  Oh,  yes — coax  me  now,  will  you,  you  wretch  ! " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  detested  head  of  my  landlord,  that  if  you 
liked  you  could  assume  as  much  front  as  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  which 
is  not  saying  much  I " 

"  The  truth  is,  that  the  Bacchanal  has  front  enough,  and  to 
spare." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  the  way  ia  which  she  fascinates  the  municipal 
guard." 

"  And  magnetises  the  sergens  de  ville." 

"  It  is  in  vain  they  try  to  be  angry :  she  always  ends  by  making 
them  laugh." 

"  And  they  all  call  her,  '  My  queen  ! ' ' 

"  Last  night  she  charmed  one  of  the  municipals,  a  gentleman  who 
was  as  modest  as  a  new-blown  rose,  and  whose  sense  of  propriety  had 
been  gendarmised  (gendarmised — what  a  nice  word  that  would  have 
been  before  the  glorious  days  1) — I  say  that  the  modesty  of  the  muni- 
cipal had  been  gendarmised  whilst  the  queen  was  dancing  her  famous 
pas  of  the  '  storm-blown  tulip' — la  tulipe  orageuse" 

"  What  a  contre-danse  !  Couche-tout-Nu  and  the  Queen-Bacchanal 
having  opposite  them  Rose- Pompon  and  Nini-Moulin  ! " 

"  And  all  four  displaying  tulips,  each  more  '  full- blown'  than  the 
other  I " 

"  By  the  way,  is  it  true  what  they  say  of  Nini-Moulin  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  That  he  is  a  literary  man,  who  writes  pamphlets  on  religion  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  true  ;  I  have  often  seen  him  at  my  employer's,  where 
he  deals — a  bad  paymaster,  but  a  rollicking  roysterer." 

"  And  he  plays  the  pious,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  he  chooses,  and  then  he  is  M.  Dumoulin,  as  stiff  as 
your  arm:  he  rolls  his  eyes,  walks  with  downcast  look,  and  his  toes 
turned  in ;  but,  that  over,  he  rushes  to  the  ball-rooms,  which  he  revels 
in,  and  then  makes  up  for  his  lost  time.  The  women  at  these  'hops' 
hence  called  him  Nini-Moulin ;  and  when  you  add  to  this  that  he 
drinks  like  a  fish,  you  have  the  full-length  portrait  of  this  reveller. 
This  does  not  prevent  him  from  writing  for  religious  newspapers; 
and  so  the  hypocrites,  whom  he  manages  infinitely  better  than  he 
manages  himself,  swear  by  him.  You  should  only  see  his  articles  or 
pamphlets  (I  say  see,  you  need  not  read  them).  He  talks,  in  every 


THE  MASQUERADING.  383 

page,  of  the  devil  and  his  horns,  and  the  undoubted  fryings  which  await 
the  impious  and  revolutionary — of  the  authority  of  bishops,  and  the 
power  of  the  pope — and  I  don't  know  wrhat  beside.  Nini-Moulin  the 
toper,  only  imagine !  But  he  gives  them  enough  for  their  money." 

"  The  truth  is  he  is  a  toper,  and  a  deuced  hard-headed  chap.  How 
he  did  '  flare-up'  with  his  avant-deux  with  little  Hose- Pompon  in  the 
dance  of  the  tulipe  orageuse  /" 

"And  what  a  funny  figure  he  cut  with  his  Roman  helmet  and 
top-boots!" 

"Rose-Pompon  dances  splendaciously  too — what  a  poetic  twist 
she  has !" 

"  The  beau  ideal  of  a  bal  dansante." 

"  Yes ;  but  the  Queen-Bacchanal  is  six  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  a  bal  damante.  I  can  never  forget  her  step  last  night  in  the 
tulipe" 

"  It  was  adorable." 

"  Enough  to  make  a  man  fall  down  and  worship." 

"  If  I  were  the  father  of  a  family,  I  would  intrust  her  with  the 
education  of  my  eons !" 

"  It  was  about  that  pas  that  the  municipal,  whose  modesty  was  so 
shocked,  became  angry." 

"  Why,  to  say  the  truth,  the  pas  is  rather  out  of  the  strict  line  of 
propriety." 

"  1  believe  you  ;  and  so  M.  Municipal  came  up  to  her  and  said, 
'  I  say,  my  queen,  is  that  step  going  to  end  for  good  and  all?' 
'  No,  modest  warrior,'  replied  the  queen,  '  I  practise  it  once  every 
evening,  in  order  that  I  may  dance  it  perfectly  when  I'm  an  old 
woman.  It  is  in  consequence  of  a  vow  I  made  in  order  that  you  might 
be  promoted  brigadier.' " 

"What  a  droll  girl!" 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  her  liaison  with  Couche-tout-Nu  can  last 
for  ever." 

"  Because  he  has  been  a  workman  ?" 

"  Of  course  not, — that  would  be  a  poor  reason  for  us  students  and 
shopboys  to  be  proud.  No  I  I  am  surprised  at  her  fidelity  to  him." 

"  Which  has  been  the  case  these  three  or  four  months." 

"  She  is  really  in  love  with  him,  and  he  is  mad  about  her." 

"  Their  conversation  must  be  a  thing  to  hear." 

"  Sometimes  I  ask  myself  where  Couche-tout-Nu  gets  the  money 
he  spends.  It  seems  that  he  pays  for  all  to-day,  three  carriages 
and  four,  and  the  early  breakfast  (reveille-matin')  for  twenty  persons, 
at  ten  francs  a-head." 

"They  say  he  has  come  into  some  properly  lately.  So  Nini- 
Moulin,  who  has  a  fine  nose  for  good  feeds  and  fat  revels,  has  formed 
his  acquaintance  to-night — not  saying  that  he  has  any  dishonourable 
designs  on  the  Queen-Bacchanal." 

"He!  he!  that's  a  good  one!  such  an  ugly  brute  !  The  women 
like  him  for  a  partner  in  a  dance  because  he  plays  up  such  antics  as 
make  everybody  laugh — but  that's  all.  Little  Rose-Pompon,  who  is 
so  nice  and  pretty,  has  taken  up  with  him  as  a  cavalier  who  can  in  no 
way  compromise  her  in  the  absence  of  her  student." 


384  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Here  come  the  coaches  I  here  they  are!"  said  the  crowd  with  one 
accord. 

La  Mayeux,  compelled  to  stop  in  the  midst  of  the  maskers,  had  not 
lost  one  word  of  this  conversation,  painful  as  it  was  to  her,  for  it  con- 
cerned her  sister,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  a  long  while.  Not  that 
the  Queen-Bacchanal  had  a  bad  heart,  but  the  sight  of  the  utter  misefy 
of  La  Mayeux,  misery  which  she  nad  shared,  excited  in  this  joyous- 
hearted  girl  a  burst  of  bitter  sorrow ;  and,  therefore,  she  would  not 
any  longer  expose  herself  to  it,  having  in  vain  pressed  upon  her  sister 
assistance,  which  La  Mayeux  constantly  refused,  knowing  as  she  did 
the  source  from  which  it  was  derived. 

"  The  carriages!  the  carriages  !" 

The  mob  again  and  again  shouted  with  enthusiasm,  and  with  such 
a  stir,  that  La  Mayeux,  unwilling  as  she  was,  found  herself  thrust  into 
the  front  rank  of  the  people  pushing  their  way  to  see  the  masqueraders' 
arrival. 

It  was  really  a  curious  spectacle. 

A  man  on  horseback,  disguised  as  a  postilion,  wore  a  blue  coat, 
embroidered  with  silver,  an  enormous  tail,  from  which  the  powder 
puffed  out  in  volumes,  a  hat  bedecked  with  a  profusion  of  ribands, 
preceded  the  first  carriage,  cracking  his  whip,  and  calling  out  in  a 
stunning  voice, 

"  Way  there !  make  way  there  for  the  Queen-Bacchanal  and  her 
court." 

In  an  open  landau,  drawn  by  four  lean  horses,  mounted  by  two  old 
postilions  dressed  as  devils,  was  piled  a  pyramid  of  men  and  women, 
sitting,  standing,  perched  in  corners,  in  all  the  most  whimsical,  outre, 
ridiculous,  eccentric  costumes  in  the  world.  They  formed  an  inde- 
scribable heap  of  bright  colours,  flowers,  feathers,  tinsel,  and  spangles. 
From  this  mass  of  forms  and  odd  attires  proceeded  singular  or  good- 
looking,  pretty  or  ugly  countenances,  each  animated  by  the  feverish 
excitement  of  tipsy  jollity,  and  all  turned  with  an  expression  of 
fanatic  admiration  towards  the  second  carriage,  in  which  was  the 
Queen-Bacchanal,  throned  like  a  sovereign,  whilst  the  surrounding 
multitude  saluted  her  with  cries  and  shouts  of — 

"  The  Queen-Bacchanal  for  ever  I" 

The  second  carriage,  a  landau  like  the  first,  only  contained  the 
four  coryphees  of  the  famous  pas  of  the  tulipe  orageuse,  Nini-Moulin, 
Rose-Pompon,  Couche-tout-Nu,  and  the  Quees-Bacchanal. 

Dumoulin,  the  religious  writer  who  had  dared  to  contend  with  his 
patron  M.  Rodin  for  Madame  de  la  Sainte-Colombc,  surnamed  Nini- 
Moulin,  erect  on  the  front  cushions,  presented  a  glorious  study  for 
Callot  or  Gavarni — Gavarni,  that  eminent  artist  who  unites  to  the 
biting  satire  and  marvellous  imagination  of  a  first-class  caricaturist  the 
poetry  and  depth  of  Hogarth. 

Nini-Moulin,  who  was  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  wore  at  the 
back  of  his  head  a  Roman  helmet  made  of  silvered  paper.  A  volu- 
minous plume  of  black  feathers,  in  a  butt  of  red  wood,  surmounted  this 
casque,  whose  graceful  fall  broke  the  otherwise  too  classic  lines  of  this 
head-gear. 

Beneath  this  helm  beamed  forth  as  burly  and  bacchanalian  a  face 


THE     MASQUEHADINO 
IV    .TIM. 


I  "ii.|"M  :  Chapman  nml  Hall.     .Inly  I.  1  - 1 


THE    MASQUERADING.  385 

as  ever  was  empurpled  by  the  fumes  and  potency  of  generous  wine. 
A  projecting  nose,  whose  original  shape  was  modestly  disguised 
beneath  the  luxuriant  efflorescence  of  grog-blossoms,  tinted  red  and 
violet,  gave  a  droll  effect  to  a  face  that  was  absolutely  beardless ;  and 
to  which  a  large  mouth  with  thick  lips,  the  lower  one  projecting  and 
curving  downwards,  produced  an  expression  of  surpassing  joviality  to 
his  eyes,  which  were  large,  grey,  and  flat  in  his  head. 

On  seeing  this  reveller,  with  a  paunch  like  Silenus,  one  asked  how 
it  was  that  he  had  not  drowned  in  wine  a  hundred  fathoms  deep  the 
gall,  bile,  venom,  which  saturated  his  pamphlet  against  the  enemies  of 
Ultramontanism,  and  how  his  Catholic  beliefs  could  float  upwards  iu 
the  midst  of  his  bacchic  and  choreographic  excesses. 

This  question  would  have  been  without  solution,  if  we  did  not  know 
that  actors  who  play  the  blackest  and  most  hateful  parts  are  often  iu 
private  life  the  best  fellows  in  the  world. 

The  cold  was  rather  severe,  and  Niui-Moulin  wore  a  cloak,  which 
was  half  open,  and  shewed  his  cuirass  of  scale,  and  his  pantaloons  of 
flesh  colour,  which  were  met  just  beneath  his  calf  by  the  tops  of  his 
yellow  boots. 

Bending  forwards  in  the  front  of  the  carriage,  he  uttered  wild  cries 
and  shouts  of  rapture,  intermingled  with  these  words,  "  Long  live  the 
Bacchanal  Queen  !"  after  which  he  shook  and  turned  an  enormous  rattle 
he  held  in  his  hand.  Couche-tout-Nu,  standing  beside  Mini- Moulin,  was 
waving  a  banner  of  white  silk,  on  which  was  inscribed,  "  Loce  and  joy 
to  the  Queen- Bacchanal." 

Couche-tout-Nu  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  age  ;  his  gay  and 
intelligent  countenance  was  surrounded  by  a  fringe  of  chestnut- 
coloured  curls;  as  yet  his  features,  though  worn  with  late  hours  and 
excesses,  exhibited  no  expression  of  low  or  depraved  habits,  but  be- 
trayed a  singular  mixture  of  carelessness,  hardihood,  indifference,  and 
folly  :  he  was,  in  fact,  the  perfect  type  of  a  Parisian,  according  to  the 
general  acceptation  of  the  term,  whether  as  applied  to  the  army,  to  the 
dweller  at  home,  or  to  the  sailor,  whether  in  king's  service  or  on  board 
a  merchantman.  The  term,  though  not  exactly  complimentary,  is  still 
far  from  being  used  in  a  'reproachful  sense ;  it  is,  in  fact,  an  epithet 
combining  both  praise  and  blame,  censure  and  admiration  ;  for  if  the 
PARISIAN  is  occasionally  idle  and  self-willed,  he  is  also  quick  and 
clever  in  his  calling,  resolute  in  danger,  and  invariably  a  great  lover  of 
mirth  and  jest. 

Couche-tout-Nu,  in  his  dress,  "  came  it,"  as  is  vulgarly  termed, 
"  pretty  strong:"  he  wore  a  black  velvet  vest  with  silver  buttons,  a 
scarlet  waistcoat,  broad  blue-striped  pantaloons,  and  a  cachmerc  shawl 
tied  round  his  waist,  leaving  the  long  ends  hanging  loose,  a  hat  covered 
with  ribands  and  flowers  completed  this  costume,  which  well  became 
his  easy,  graceful  figure. 

At  the  back  of  the  carriage  were  Rose-Pompon  and  the  Bacchanal 
Queen,  standing  up  on  the  cushions. 

Hose-Pompon  had  been  a  fringe-maker ;  she  was  about  seventeen 
years  of  age,  with  the  prettiest  and  most  mirthful  countenance  ima- 
ginable ;  she  was  coquettishly  dressed  as  a  dcbardcur;  a  powdered  wig, 
on  the  side  of  which  was  tastefully  placed  a  smart  little  green  and  red 
cap  with  a  silver  band,  surmounted  her  youthful  countenance,  and 

25  cc 


386  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

served  admirably  to  sot  off  her  bright  black  eyes  and  round  rosy 
cheeks.  Round  her  neck  she  won;  a  cravat  of  the  same  orange- 
coloured  silk  as  formed  the  scarf,  loosely  bound  round  her  waist  and 
hanging  down  in  long  floating  ends,  hei  close  fitting  jacket  and  waist- 
coat of  light  green  velvet,  embroidered  in  silver,  fully  displayed  the 
proportions  of  her  youthful  figure,  whose  supple  pliancy  was  well 
calculated  to  shine  in  the  mazy  evolutions  of  the  dance  named  la  tulipc 
orageuse.  To  complete  the  whole,  we  shall  merely  observe,  that  the 
large  loose  trousers  she  wore,  of  the  same  colour  and  material  as  the 
upper  part  of  her  dress,  were  not  less  liberal  in  the  display  they  afforded 
than  were  the  other  articles  of  her  attire. 

The  Queen-Bacchanal,  who  was  at  least  a  head  taller  than  Rose- 
Pompon,  stood  carelessly  resting  her  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  her 
friend ;  and  well  did  the  sister  of  La  Mayeux  deserve  to  be  the  deity 
of  the  "  rabble  rout"  she  thus  by  her  mere  presence  inspired  to  the 
wildest  mirth  and  revelry,  as  well  as  by  the  infatuation  of  her  own 
joyous,  noisy  animation. 

She  was  a  tall,  well-grown  girl,  of  about  twenty  years  of  age, 
slight,  yet  well  proportioned,  with  regular  and  handsome  features,  and 
a  merry,  rollicking  air.  Like  her  sister,  she  had  magnificent  chestnut 
hair  and  large  blue  eyes ;  but,  instead  of  being  gentle  and  timid,  like 
the  young  sempstress,  they  shone  with  untiring  ardour  in  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure  ;  and  such  was  the  vivacious  energy  of  this  excitable  being, 
that,  although  she  had  for  the  last  several  days  and  nights  been  en- 
gaged in  a  continual  round  of  gaiety,  her  skin  was  as  fair,  her  com- 
plexion as  pure,  and  the  delicate  colouring  of  her  cheek  as  bright  and 
blooming,  as  though  she  had  but  that  morning  emerged  from  some 
quiet,  peaceful  retreat,  where  late  hours  were  unknown.  Her  dress, 
though  singularly  whimsical  and  ridiculous,  was  well  adapted  to  dis- 
play the  perfect  beauty  of  her  form.  It  consisted  of  a  tight-fitting, 
long-waisted  bodice,  of  gold-coloured  cloth,  trimmed  with  a  profusion 
of  bunches  of  scarlet  ribands,  which  hung  half-way  down  her  naked 
arms ;  a  short  petticoat  of  scarlet  velvet,  ornamented  with  tassels  and 
spangles  of  gold,  reached  midway  down  a  leg  at  once  delicately  yet 
powerfully  formed,  displaying  a  well-turned  ankle,  covered  with  an 
embroidered  silk  stocking,  and  feet  wearing  red  morocco  slippers  with 
gilt  heels. 

Not  even  the  most  agile  Andalusian  could  have  possessed  a  figure 
more  supple,  elastic,  yet  powerful,  than  did  this  wild  and  buoyant  crea- 
ture, who  seemed  as  though  endowed  with  perpetual  motion,  for  con- 
tinually were  her  head,  shoulders,  and  body,  moving  from  side  to  side, 
as  though  still  following  the  movement  of  some  favourite  dance,  while, 
with  the  tip  of  her  right  foot  placed  on  the  door  of  the  carriage,  she 
seejncd  as  though  beating  time  to  some  invisible  orchestra ;  and  all 
this  was  done  in  the  most  insouciant  manner,  wholly  regardless  of  the 
admiration  she  excited,  the  Bacchanal  Queen,  standing  on  the  cushions 
of  the  vehicle,  continued  to  display  her  pretty  foot  in  constant 
motion  upon  the  carriage  -  door.  A  sort  of  golden  diadem,  the 
emblem  of  her  noisy  royalty,  from  which  hung  a  quantity  of  small 
silver  bells,  encircled  her  forehead ;  her  hair,  plaited  in  two  thick 
braids,  was  taken  off  her  blooming  countenance  and  twisted  round  the 
back  of  her  head ;  her  right  hand  rested  on  the  shoulder  of  Rose- 


THE  MASQUERADING.  387 

Pompon,  while  with  the  other  she  held  an  enormous  bouquet,  occa- 
sionally saluting  the  crowd  by  bursting  out  into  the  most  joyous  peals 
of  laughter. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  render  a  perfect  description  of  this  noisy, 
animated,  yet  half-wild  group.  A  third  carriage  tilled,  like  the  first, 
with  a  pyramidical  mass  of  the  most  grotesque  and  extravagant  masques, 
completed  the  tableau. 

Among  the  rejoicing  crowd,  one  person  alone  beheld  this  pageantry 
with  deep  sadness  and  pain,  and  that  was  La  Mayeux,  still  fixed  among 
the  most  prominent  spectators,  spite  of  her  earnest  efforts  to  escape 
from  the  crowd  which  pressed  her  on. 

Long  while  separated  from  her  sister,  she  saw  her  again  for  the 
first  time  on  the  day  of  this  her  singular  triumph,  in  the  midst  of  joy- 
ous cries  and  loud  plaudits  of  her  companions  in  pleasure.  Yet  the 
eyes  of  the  poor  sempstress  were  dimmed  with  tears ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  joy  and  delight  with  which  the  Bacchanal  Queen  seemed 
to  participate  in  the  noisy  mirth  of  all  around  her — though  she  seemed 
to  revel  in  temporary  luxury,  and  her  eyes  seemed  bright  with  full  en- 
joyment, yet  she,  the  poor,  half-starved  workwoman,  penniless  and 
almost  in  rag*,  who  crept  forth  at  break  of  day  to  seek  the  means  of 
earning  her  daily  bread,  even  by  sacrificing  her  sleep  and  rest  to  pro- 
cure the  scanty  morsel  her  exhausted  frame  required, — yet  she  pitied 
and  sincerely  grieved  for  the  radiant  creature  on  whom  so  many  ad- 
miring eyes  were  turned. 

The  poor  Mayeux  had  forgotten  the  crowd  while  observing  the 
sister  she  so  tenderly  loved,  perhaps  even  more  so  from  believing  that, 
spite  of  appearances,  she  was  more  an  object  for  commiseration  than 
herself;  and  so  she  stood,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  beautiful  and  joyful 
girl,  while  her  pale  and  gentle  features  expressed  the  most  touching 
pity,  mingled  with  the  deepest  interest  and  most  unfeigned  sorrow. 

All  at  once,  as  the  gay  glances  of  the  Bacchanal  Queen  surveyed 
the  crowd  before  her,  her  eye  caught  the  sorrowing,  tearful  gaze  of 
La  Mayeux. 

"My  sister  1"  exclaimed  Cephyse  (the  reader  is  already  aware 
such  was  the  name  of  the  Bacchanal  Queen).  "  My  dear  sister  ! "  and, 
light  as  an  opera-dancer,  with  one  spring,  the  Bacchanal  Queen  quitted 
her  moving  throne,  which,  fortunately  for  her,  happened  to  be  sta- 
tionary just  at  that  instant,  and  throwing  herself  into  her  sister's  aims, 
she  embraced  her  with  the  most  affectionate  warmth. 

All  this  had  passed  so  rapidly  that  the  companions  of  the  Bac- 
chanal Queen,  astonished  at  the  suddenness  of  the  perilous  leap  she 
had  taken,  were  wondering  what  could  have  caused  it,  while  the 
masques  who  had  surrounded  La  Mayeux  drew  back  in  utter  amaze- 
ment, leaving  the  poor  girl  to  all  the  delight  of  embracing  her  sister, 
whose  caresses  she  returned  with  pure  affection,  wholly  forgetful  of 
the  singular  contrast  between  them,  which  could  not  fail,  ere  long,  to 
provoke  the  amusement  and  jokes  of  the  crowd. 

Cuphyse  was  the  first  to  recollect  it,  and  anxious  to  spare  her  sister 
so  great  a  humiliation,  she  hastily  returned  to  the  carriage,  saying, 

"  Hose-Pompon,  give  me  my  cloak,  and  you,  Nini-Moului,  opeu 
the  coach-door  as  quick  as  you  can  ! " 

Having  received  the  mantle,  the  Queen-Bacchanal  quickly  wrapped 


388  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

it  round  La  Maycux  before  the  astonished  girl  had  recovered  herself 
sufficiently  to  utter  a  word.  Then,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  she  said 
quickly, — 

"  Come,  conic,  dear  sister!" 

"I!"  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  greatly  alarmed ;  "you  arc  not  in 
earnest,  surely?" 

"  Indeed,  but  I  am  !  I  must  speak  with  you.  I  will  obtain  a 
private  room,  where  we  shall  be  quite  alone ;  therefore  make  haste,  my 
dearest  sister :  do  not  object,  before  all  these  people,  but  come  at  once 
— pray  do  ! " 

The  fear  of  becoming  an  object  for  public  curiosity  decided  La 
Mayeux,  who,  besides  confused  with  her  adventure,  trembling  and 
frightened,  followed  her  sister  almost  mechanically  to  the  carriage, 
the  door  of  which  had  been  opened  by  Nini-Moulin. 

Concealed  beneath  the  mantle  of  the  Queen  of  the  Bacchanals,  the 
humble  vestments  of  La  Mayeux,  as  well  as  her  personal  de- 
formity, escaped  the  notice  of  the  crowd,  still  occupied  in  wondering 
what  all  this  could  have  meant,  while  the  carriages,  once  more  in  mo- 
tion, proceeded  at  a  rapid  pace  towards  the  Traiteurs,  in  the  Place 
du  Chatelet,  before  whose  door  they  shortly  stopped. 


CHAPTER   LVI. 

THE   CONTRAST. 

SOME  minutes  after  the  meeting  of  La  Mayeux  and  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal,  the  two  sisters  were  together  in  a  private  room  in  the 
tavern. 

"  Let  me  kiss  you  again,"  said  Cephysc  to  the  young  work-girl ; 
"  at  least,  now  we  are  alone,  there  is  nothing  to  fear. " 

As  the  Queen-Bacchanal  clasped  La  Mayeux  in  her  arms,  the 
mantle  which  covered  her  sister  fell. 

At  the  sight  of  the  miserable  garments,  which  she  had  hardly  had 
time  to  remark  in  the  Place  du  Chatelet  in  the  throng,  Cephyse 
wrung  her  hands,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  painful  surprise. 
Then  approaching  her  sister,  that  she  might  contemplate  her  more 
closely,  she  took  between  her  own  plump  hands  the  thin  and  meagre 
palms  of  La  Mayeux,  and  gazed  for  some  minutes  with  increasing 
anguish  at  the  unhappy  creature,  suffering,  wan,  and  attenuated  by 
privation  and  loss  of  rest,  and  scarcely  covered  by  a  wretched  cotton 
gown,  darned  and  patched  all  over. 

"  Oh,  sister,  to  see  you  thus  ! " 

And  unable  to  utter  another  word,  the  Queen-Bacchanal  threw  her- 
self on  La  Mayeux's  neck  and  burst  into  tears. 

In  the  the  midst  of  her  sobs  she  added, — 

"  Pardon  I  —  Pardon  I " 

"  Why  ?  what  ails  you,  dear  Cephyse  ?  "  said  the  young  needle- 
woman, deeply  moved,  and  gently  disengaging  herself  from  the  em- 
braces of  her  sister. 

"  Why  should  you  ask  pardon  of  me  ?" 


THE  CONTRAST.  389 

"Why?"  replied  Cephyse,  lifting  up  her  face  suffused  with  tears, 
and  red  with  confusion  ;  "  is  it  not  shameful  of  me  to  be  clothed  in 
this  tinsel,  to  waste  so  much  money  in  follies,  whilst  you  are  clothed 
thus — whilst  you  are  in  want  of  every  thing — whilst,  perhaps,  you  are 
•lying  with  misery  and  want,  for  I  never  saw  you  looking  so  pale  and 
worn  by  fatigue." 

"Oh,  do  not  be  uneasy,  sister,  I  am  not  ill —  I  was  up  rather  late 
last  night,  and  that  accounts  for  my  paleness  ;  but  do  not  cry  — pray, 
don't,  it  makes  me  so  unhappy." 

The  Queen-Bacchanal  had  just  arrived,  all  radiant,  in  the  midst  of 
the  intoxicated  crowd,  and  yet  it  was  La  Mayeux  who  was  consoling 
her! 

An  incident  occurred  at  this  moment  which  made  the  contrast 
still  more  striking. 

Joyous  cries  were  suddenly  heard  in  the  neighbouring  apartment, 
and  these  words  were  heard  pronounced  with  enthusiasm  : — 

"  The  Queen-Bacchanal  for  ever !  the  Queen-Bacchanal  for  ever !  " 

La  Mayeux  started,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  teal's  on  seeing  her 
sister,  who,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  seemed  overwhelmed 
with  shame. 

"  Cephyse,"  she  said,  "  I  entreat  of  you  not  to  distress  yourself  so. 
You  will  make  me  regret  the  happiness  of  seeing  you  ;  and  it  is  such  a 
pleasure  to  me !  It  is  so  long  since  I  saw  you — but  what  afflicts  you 
so  ?  Do  tell  me.  " 

"  You  despise  me,  perhaps — and  you  are  right,"  said  the  Queen 
Bacchanal,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Despise  you  !     I  ? — and  for  what  ?  " 

"  Because  I  lead  the  life  I  do,  instead  of  having  the  courage  to 
support  my  misery  as  you  have." 

The  grief  of  Cephyse  was  so  excessive,  that  La  Mayeux,  always 
kind  and  tender,  desirous  of  consoling  her  sister,  and  raising  her  in  her 
own  estimation,  said,  soothingly, — 

"  Why,  in  bearing  up  bravely,  as  you  did  for  a  year,  my  dear 
Cephyse,  you  had  more  merit  and  courage  than  I  shall  ever  have  in 
enduring  all  my  life." 

"  Ah,  sister,  do  not  say  so." 

"  Really,  now,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  "  let  us  see  to  what  tempta- 
tions a  creature  like  me  is  exposed  ?  Should  I  not  naturally  seek 
solitude  and  isolation  just  as  much  as  you  seek  a  life  of  excitement  and 
amusement  ?  What  wants  has  a  poor  humble  thing  like  me  ? — a  very 
little  suffices." 

"  And  that  little  you  do  not  always  get." 

"No;  but  weak  and  ailing  as  I  am,  I  can  endure  privations  better 
than  you  can ;  for,  though  hunger  produces  in  me  a  sort  of  giddiness, 
which  ends  in  extreme  weakness,  yet  you,  robust  and  lively,  hunger 
makes  you  fierce, — almost  maddens  you  !  Don't  you  remember  how 
often  I  have  seen  you  suffering  under  these  painful  attacks  when  in  our 
miserable  attic,  after  work  has  stopped  for  a  while,  we  were  unable  to 
get  even  our  four  francs  a-week,  and  had  nothing — actually  nothing  to 
eat,  for  our  pride  prevented  us  from  applying  to  our  neighbours  ?  " 

"  And  you  at  least  have  maintained  this  pride." 

"  And  so  have  you  !  Did  you  not  struggle  as  much  as  it  was  pos.- 


390  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

sible  for  human  creature  to  struggle?  But  strength  has  its  limits; 
and  I  know  you  well,  Cephyse, — and  it  was  before  hunger  that  you 
yielded — yes,  before  bitter  hunger,  and  the  painful  compulsion  of  hard, 
unutterably  hard  work,  whieli  did  not  even  then  supply  you  with  the 
means  of  obtaining  even  indispensable  necessaries." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  you  endured  these  privations,  and  endure  them 
still." 

"  But,  am  I  to  be  compared  to  you  ?  Here  ! "  said  La  Mayeux, 
taking  her  sister's  hand,  and  leading  her  before  a  glass  placed  over  a 
sofa,  "look  at  yourself!  Do  you  think  that  Providence,  who  formed 
you  so  beautiful,  endowed  you  with  lively  and  ardent  blood,  a  disposi- 
tion full  of  mirth  and  vivacity,  expansion,  and  fond  of  pleasure,  desired 
that  your  youth  should  be  spent  in  the  seclusion  of  a  freezing  garret, 
without  ever  seeing  the  sun,  nailed  to  your  chair,  clad  in  rags,  and 
working  incessantly  and  hopelessly  ?  No !  for  the  Almighty  has 
given  us  other  wants  besides  those  of  eating  and  drinking.  Even  in  our 
humble  condition,  does  not  beauty  require  some  adornment  ?  Does 
not  youth  require  space,  and  pleasure,  and  gaiety  ?  Do  not  all  ages 
require  some  relaxation  and  rest?  Had  you  gained  a  weekly  sum  suffi- 
cient to  supply  your  hunger  and  allow  you  to  have  a  day  or  two's  amuse* 
ment  in  the  week,  after  a  daily  toil  of  from  twelve  to  fifteen  hours,  to 
enable  you  to  procure  the  modest  and  becoming  toilette  which  your 
handsome  face  has  a  right  to,  you  would  not,  I  know,  have  required 
more — you  have  told  me  so  a  hundred  times.  But  you  have  yielded 
to  an  irresistible  necessity,  because  your  wants  were  greater  than 
mine." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  with  a  pensive  air, 
"  if  I  could  but  have  gained  forty  sous  a-day,  my  life  would  have  been 
wholly  different ;  for,  at  the  beginning,  sister,  1  was  deeply  humiliated 
to  live  at  the  expense  of  any  one." 

"  Thus,  therefore,  my  dear  Cephyse,  you  were  irresistibly  led  on, 
or  else  I  should  blame  instead  of  pitying  you.  You  did  not  choose 
your  destiny  but  submitted  to  it,  as  I  have  done  to  mine." 

"Poor  sister,"  said  Cephyse,  embracing  La  Mayeux  tenderly, 
"  you  so  wretched  yet  encourage  and  console  me,  whilst  it  ought  to  be 
I  who  pity  you." 

"  Comfort  yourself,"  said  La  Mayeux  ;  "  God  is  just  and  good,  and 
if  He  has  refused  me  many  advantages,  He  has  given  ine  my  joys  as 
well  as  you  yours." 

" Your  joys  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  great  ones,  too ;  M'ithout  them  life  would  be  too  heavy, 
and  I  should  not  have  the  courage  to  support  it." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Cephyse,  with  emotion,  "  you  find  still  the 
way  to  devote  yourself  for  others,  and  that  soothes  your  own  sor- 
rows." 

"  I  do  all  in  my  power,  although  that  is  but  very  little;  but  when 
I  succeed,"  added  La  Mayeux,  smiling  faintly,  "  I  am  as  happy  and 
proud  as  a  small  ant,  who,  after  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  has  brought 
one  single  straw  to  the  common  nest.  But  do  not  let  me  talk  any 
more  of  myself." 

"  Yes,  talk  on,  I  pray  of  you ;  and,  at  the  risk  of  making  you 
angry>"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  timidly,  "  I  will  renew  a  pro- 


'/v';  _    I 


THE    CONTRAST. 

P.  3<»n. 


T    nnrl,..,  I   '!,. ........     ll.rl     II. II  ll 


THE  CONTRAST.  391 

posal  winch  yon  have  already  refused.  Jacques  *  has,  I  think,  money 
left — we  squander  it  foolishly — giving  some  now  and  then  to  poor 
people  whom  we  meet — I  beg  of  you  to  let  me  help  you — I  see  your 
poor  face,  and  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  conceal  from  me  that  you  are 
exhausting  yourself  with  work." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Cephyse,  I  know  your  kind  heart,  but  I  am  not 
in  want  of  any  thing — the  little  I  earn  is  enough  for  me." 

"  You  refuse  me,"  said  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  in  a  sorrowful  voice, 
"  because  you  know  that  my  claims  on  this  money  are  not  honourable 
—be  it  so — I  understand  your  scruple.  At  least,  however,  accept  a 
service  from  Jacques  ;  he  has  been  a  workman  like  ourselves,  and 
comrades  should  help  one  another — I  beseech  you,  accept  of  that,  or 
I  shall  think  you  disdain  me." 

"  And  I  shall  think  that  you  despise  me  if  you  persist,  my  dear 
Cephyse,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  tone  at  once  so  firm,  though  gentle, 
that  the  Queen-Bacchanal  saw  that  all  further  persuasion  would  be 
useless. 

She  bent  her  head  sorrowfully,  and  a  tear  again  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  My  refusal  pains  you,"  said  La  Mayeux,  taking  her  hand ;  "  I  am 
very  sorry — but  reflect  for  a  moment,  and  you  will  understand  me." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  with  bitterness, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  "you  cannot  accept  of  help  from  my  lover 
— it  was  an  insult  to  offer  it.  There  are  positions  so  humiliating  that 
they  taint  even  the  very  good  which  one  would  desire  to  do." 

"  CSphyse,  I  did  not  mean  to  wound  you,  you  know  that  very 
well." 

"  Oh,  believe  me,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  "  giddy  and 
thoughtless  as  I  am,  there  are  sometimes  moments  of  reflection  even 
in  the  midst  of  my  most  headlong  joys — fortunately  those  moments 
are  rare." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  then  ?  " 

"  Of  the  life  I  lead — it  is  scarcely  honest ;  and  then  I  resolve  on 
asking  Jacques  for  a  small  sum  of  money,  just  enough  to  maintain  me 
for  one  year;  and  I  resolve,  then,  on  rejoining  you,  and  gradually  set- 
tling down  to  work  again." 

"  The  idea  is  excellent,  why  do  you  not  adopt  it  ?  " 
"  Because  at  the  moment  I  am  about  to  resolve  on  it,  I  question 
myself  sincerely,  and  my  courage  fails  me.  I  feel  that  I  can  never 
resume  the  habits  of  labour,  and  renounce  a  life  sometimes  rich,  as 
now,  sometimes  precarious,  but,  at  least,  free,  idle,  joyous,  careless, 
and  a  thousand  times  preferable  to  that  which  I  should  lead  in  earn- 
ing four  francs  a-weck.  Interest  never  guided  me,  and  I  have  often 
refused  to  quit  a  lover  who  was  not  well  off  for  one  who  was  rich,  but 
whom  I  did  not  like.  I  have  never  asked  any  thing  for  myself, 
Jacques  has  expended,  perhaps,  10,000  francs  (400/.)  in  the  last  three  or 
four  months,  and  yet  wchave  only  two  miserable  rooms  but  half  furnished, 
for  we  always  live  out  of  doors  like  the  birds.  Fortunately,  when  I 
first  loved  him  he  had  nothing  at  all.  I  sold,  for  a  hundred  francs, 

*  We  remind  the  reader  that  Couche-tout-Nu  is  named  Jacques  Rennepont,  and  is 
one  of  the  descendants  of  the  sister  of  the  Wandering  Jew. 


392  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

some  trinkets  I  had  given  me,  and  put  that  sum  in  the  lottery,  and  as 
the  good-for-nothing  have  always  good  luck,  I  got  4000  francs  (160/.). 
Jacques  was  as  gay,  and  giddy,  and  fond  of  amusement  as  I  was,  and 
we  said,  '  We  love  each  other  very  much,  and,  as  long  as  the  money 
lasts,  we  will  enjoy  ourselves ;  when  we  have  no  more,  one  of  two 
things  will  happen, — either  we  shall  be  tired  of  one  another,  and  will 
then  say  '  adieu,'  or  we  shall  love  each  other  still.  Then,  in  order  to  re- 
main with  each  other,  we  must  try  and  obtain  work,  if  we  cannot,  and  still 
resolve  not  to  part,  why,  a  bushel  of  charcoal  will  settle  the  business.' " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  turning  very  pale. 

"  Oh !  don't  alarm  yourself,  we  have  not  come  to  that  yet — we 
have  still  something  left,  when  a  man  of  business  who  had  paid  me 
some  attentions,  but  was  so  ugly  that  I  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of 
his  being  rich,  knowing  that  I  was  living  with  Jacques,  tried  to  induce 

me .  But  why  should  I  tire  you  with  these  details?  In  two 

words,  he  lent  Jacques  some  money  on  some  security  connected  with 
some  very  doubtful  claims  as  to  succeeding  to  some  property.  It  is 
with  this  money  that  we  are  amusing  ourselves,  and  as  long  as  it  lasts, 
why,  we  shall  be  merry." 

"  But,  my  dear  C6physe,  instead  of  spending  this  money  so  fool- 
ishly, why  not  invest  it  and  marry  Jacques  since  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  laugh- 
ingly, her  gay  and  inconsiderate  character  resuming  its  ascendancy, 
"  investing  money  does  not  give  any  pleasure  ;  all  the  amusement  one 
has  is  to  look  at  a  little  scrap  of  paper  which  they  give  you  in  ex- 
change for  those  little  pieces  of  gold  which  will  produce  a  thousand 
pleasures.  As  to  marrying,  I  certainly  love  Jacques  better  than  I 
ever  loved  any  body  ;  yet  I  think  if  I  were  married  to  him,  all  our 
happiness  would  leave  us,  for  as  my  lover  he  has  nothing  to  reproach 
me  with,  but  as  my  husband  he  might  upbraid  me  hereafter,  and  if 
my  conduct  merits  reproaches,  I  prefer  making  them  myself,  because 
1  can  put  bounds  to  them." 

"  Well,  well,  you  are  a  mad  girl ;  but  this  money  will  not  last  for 
ever,  and  when  it  is  gone,  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"When  it  is  gone? — ah  !  that's  still  to  come,  —  to-morrow  always 
appears  to  me  as  if  it  would  not  arrive  these  hundred  years.  If  we 
were  always  obliged  to  be  repeating  to  ourselves  that  we  must  die  one 
day,  life  would  not  be  worth  having." 

The  conversation  between  Cephyse  and  La  Mayeux  was  sigain 
interrupted  by  a  frightful  uproar  which  overwhelmed  even  the  sharp, 
shrill  noise  produced  by  the  rattle  of  Nini-Moulin.  To  this  tumult 
succeeded  a  chorus  of  human  voices,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  dis- 
tinguishable one  loud  unanimous  cry  of  "Queen-Bacchanal!  Queen- 
Bacchanal  !  " 

La  Mayeux  started  at  this  sudden  noise. 

"  Oh !  I  suppose  my  court  are  growing  impatient,"  said  Cephyse, 
now  laughing  heartily. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux  terrified ;  "  suppose 
they  come  here  in  search  of  you  ?" 

"  No,  no  I  never  fear, — they  will  not  do  that." 

"Oh,  yes,  they  will! — do  you  hear  those  steps?  Some  one  is 
coming  aleng  the  passage — they  are  approaching.  Oh,  dear  sister ! 


THE  CONTRAST.  393 

let  me  beseech  you  to  manage  some  way  for  me  to  go  out  alone  and 
unobserved,  without  being  seen  by  all  this  crowd  of  persons." 

As  the  door  Mas  opened,  Cephyse  ran  towards  it.  In  the  corri- 
dor she  beheld  a  deputation  headed  by  Nini-Moulin,  still  brandish- 
ing his  formidable  rattle,  Rose-Pompon,  and  Couche-tout-Nu. 

"  Come  forth,  Queen-Bacchanal,  or  I  shall  poison  myself  with  a 
glass  of  water ! "  cried  Nini-Moulin. 

"  Appear,  Queen-Bacchanal,  or,  in  despair,  I  shall  publish  my 
banns  of  marriage  with  Niui-Moulin  !" 

"  Return  to  your  anxious  court,  O  Queen-Bacchanal,"  cried  another 
voice,  "  lest  it  rise  in  rebellion  and  come  and  carry  you  back  by 
force." 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  us  carry  her  back  by  force  of  arms ! "  responded 
a  loud  chorus  of  voices. 

"  Jacques,  enter  you  only  though,"  answered  the  Queen-Bac- 
chanal, in  reply  to  those  several  pressing  summonses ;  then,  addressing 
her  court  with  a  majestic  tone,  she  said, —  • 

"  In  ten  minutes'  time  I  will  rejoin  you,  and  then  we  will  have  the 
'  devil's  delight!  " 

"  Bravo  ! — Long  live  Queen-Bacchanal !"  cried  Dumoulin,  shaking 
his  rattle  as  he  retired,  followed  by  the  deputation,  with  the  exception 
of  Couche-tout-Nu,  who  was  admitted  into  the  apartment  of  the 
sisters. 

"  Jacques,"  said  Cephyse,  "this  is  my  dear,  good  sister." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  Jacques,  kindly, 
"  and  the  more  so  as  you  will  be  able  to  give  me  some  news  of  my 
comrade  Agricola.  Since  I  have  become  a  rich  man,  we  have  not 
seen  each  other,  though  I  often  think  of  him,  for  he  was  a  worthy 
fellow  and  an  excellent  companion.  You  live  in  the  same  house  with 
him,  do  you  not?  How  is  he?" 

"  Unfortunately,  sir,  he  and  his  family  have  met  with  many  mis- 
fortunes, and  he  is  now  in  prison." 

"  In  prison  ! "  exclaimed  Cephyse. 

"  Agricola  in  prison  ! — and  wherefore  ?  "  inquired  Couche-tout-Nu. 

"  For  a  trifling  offence  of  a  political  nature.  We  were  in  hopes  of 
procuring  his  liberation  by  means  of  bail." 

"To  be  sure  —  bail  for 500  francs,"  said  Couche-tout-Nu.  "  Oh  ! 
yes,  I  am  aware  you  might  do  that." 

"  Unhappily,  sir,  the  person  ou  whom  we  relied  for  assistance  can- 
not now  give  us  any  aid." 

Here  the  Queen-Bacchanal  interrupted  La  Mayeux  by  saying 
eagerly  to  Couche-tout-Nu, — 

" Do  you  hear  that,  Jacques?  Agricola  is  in  prison,  and  all  for  the 
want  of  .500  francs." 

"  Bless  you !  I  understand  all  about  it  without  your  pretty  little 
winks  and  nods.  Poor  fellow  !  why,  he  maintained  his  mother  by  his 
labour." 

"Alas!  yes,  sir,  and  his  present  situation  is  the  more  distressing 
as  his  father  has  just  arrived  from  Russia,  and  his  mother " 

"  Here,  mademoiselle,"  said  Couche-tout-Nu,  interrupting  La 
Mayeux  a  second  time,  and  giving  her  a  purse,  "  take  this,  1  have 
paid  all  our  expenses  here  in  advance ;  here  is  all  that  remains  of  my 


394  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

riches.  You  will  find  in  this  bag  either  twenty  or  thirty  Napoleons, 
which  I  cannot  better  employ  than  in  serving  a  comrade  in  distress. 
Carry  this  money  to  Agricola's  father,  lie  will  take  tin  necessary 
steps,  and  to-morrow  Agricnla  will  be  at  work  again  by  his  forge, 
where  I  had  much  rather  he  should  be  than  myself." 

"Jacques,  you  are  a  darling! — give  me  a  kiss  directly!"  ex- 
claimed the  Queen-Bacchanal,  impetuously. 

"  That  I  will,  both  now,  directly  after,  and  whenever  you  please," 
cried  Jacques,  joyfully  embracing  the  queen. 

La  Mayeux  hesitated  for  an  instant,  but  afterwards  reflecting  that 
the  same  offer  would,  if  not  accepted,  be  spent  in  idle  follies,  while  it 
afforded  the  means  of  restoring  a  whole  family  to  peace  and  happiness, 
and,  further  considering,  that  these  500  francs,  when  returned  hereafter 
to  Jacques,  might,  probably,  be  most  useful  and  beneficial,  determined 
upon  availing  herself  of  the  unexpected  offer ;  and,  taking  the  money, 
she  said,  with  tearful  eyes, — 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Jacques !  how  good  and  generous  you  are ! 
Most  thankfully  do  I  accept  your  friendly  assistance.  Agricola's 
father  will,  at  least,  through  your  means,  have  one  great  consolation 
in  the  midst  of  the  severe  troubles  by  which  he  is  surrounded. 
Thanks  ! — a  thousand  times  thanks  ! " 

"  There  is  no  occasion  to  thank  me,  mademoiselle ;  those  who 
have  money  should  always  consider  it  as  given  them  as  much  to  serve 
and  aid  others  as  to  promote  their  own  pleasure  and  enjoyment." 

Here  the  tumultuous  cries  of  the  mutinous  court  became  loud  and 
uproarious,  while  the  rattle  of  Nini-Moulin  was  swung  with  an  energy 
which  produced  the  most  discordant  sounds  and  deafening  din. 

"Come,  Cephyse,"  said  Couche-tout-Nu,  "you  must  return  to 
them,  or  they  will  break  every  thing  before  them ;  and  remember," 
added  he,  smiling,  "  I  have  left  myself  nothing  to  pay  the  damage 
with.  Excuse  our  leaving  you,  mademoiselle,  but  you  see  royalty  has 
its  duties." 

Cephyse,  deeply  affected,  extended  her  arms  to  La  Mayeux,  who 
threw  herself  in  them,  sobbing  with  happiness. 

"And  when,"  said  she  to  her  sister,  —  "when  shall  I  see  you 
again  ?  " 

"  Very  shortly,  though  nothing  is  more  painful  to  me  than  to  see 
you  in  want  which  you  will  not  suffer  me  to  relieve." 

"  You  will  come  and  see  me  ?  —mind,  you  promise  me  !" 

"I  promise  for  her, — she  shall,"  said  Jacques;  "we  will  both 
come  and  pay  a  visit  to  you  and  our  old  acquaintance  Agricola." 

"  Then  go  to  your  friends,  and  amuse  yourself  with  a  light  heart, 
my  dear  Cephyse ;  for,  through  your  kind  recommendation,  M.  Jacques 
has  rendered  a  whole  family  happy." 

So  saying,  and  after  being  assured  by  Couche-tout-Nu  that  she 
might  safely  descend  the  stairs  without  being  seen  by  any  of  his  noisy, 
merry-making  companions,  La  Mayeux  quickly  slipped  away,  eager  to 
solace  the  heart  of  Dagobert  with  one  piece  of  good  news,  but  desirous, 
first  of  all,  to  repair  to  the  pavilion  formerly  occupied  by  Adrienne  de 
Cardoville  in  the  Rye  de  Babylone. 

The  reader  will  be  informed  hereafter  of  the  cause  of  this  deter- 
mination. 


THE  R£VEILLE-MATIN.  395 

Just  as  the  young  girl  was  quitting  the  Trrtiteurs,  three  men,  plainly 
but  respectably  dressed,  were  talking  together  in  a  low  tone,  while 
they  were  attentively  watching  the  Traitcurs  house,  at  the  same  time 
consulting  among  themselves  as  to  some  object  they  hail  in  view.  A 
fourth  individual  rapidly  descended  the  stairs  from  the  Traiteurs,  and 
joined  the  party. 

"  Well?"  said  the  three  others,  with  anxiety. 

"  He  is  there." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  are  there  two  Couche-tout-Nus  in  the  world  ?  "  replied  the 
other.  "  I  tell  you  I  have  just  seen  him :  he  is  coming  it  pretty 
strong  too.  They  are  all  safe  for  at  least  three  hours,  I'll  answer 
for  it." 

"  Well,  then,  wait  for  me  here,  all  of  you.  Don't  shew  yourselves 
more  than  you  can  help.  I'll  go  and  fetch  our  leader,  and  the  job  is 
done." 

Saying  these  words,  one  of  the  men  disappeared  at  a  quick  pace 
in  one  of  the  streets  leading  from  the  square. 

*  *  *  *  ;  * 

At  this  instant  the  Queen -Bacchanal  entered  the  banqucting- 
chamber,  accompanied  by  Couche-tout-Nu,  where  she  was  received 
with  the  loudest  plaudits  and  deafening  acclamations. 

"  Now,  then,"  cried  Cephyse,  with  a  feverish  excitement,  and  as 
though  striving  to  escape  from  her  own  thoughts, — "  now,  my  friends, 
I  am  for  any  thing  you  like  —  noise,  bustle,  whim,  slap-dash  —  real 
desperate  fun!"  Then  extending  her  glass  to  Nini-Moulin,  she  ex- 
claimed, vehemently,  "  Wine!  wine  ! — till  to  the  brim  !" 

"  Long  live  our  queen  ! "  shouted  the  whole  party,  while  loud  and 
prolonged  huzzas  burst  forth  in  one  unanimous  cheer. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

THE  R£VEILLE-MATIN. 

THE  Queen-Bacchanal,  having  in  front  of  her  Couchc-tout-Nu  and 
Rose-Pompon,  and  Nini-Moulin  on  her  right  hand,  presided  at  the 
repast,  which  was  called  reveille-matin  (early  breakfast,  literally  wake- 
morning),  and  generously  offered  by  Jacques  to  his  companions  in 
revelry. 

The  young  men  and  young  girls  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the 
fatigues  of  a  ball  beginning  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  ending  at 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  all  these  couples,  as  joyous  as  they 
were  amorous  and  untiring,  laughed,  ate,  and  drank,  with  a  juvenile 
ardour  worthy  of  Pantagruel,  and  thus,  during  the  early  part  of  the 
repast,  they  talked  but  little,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the  noise  of 
plates  rattling  and  glasses  jingling. 

The  countenance  of  the  Queen  -  Bacchanal  was  less  joyous,  but 
much  more  animated  than  usual :  her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes 


396  THE  WANDERING  JRW. 

gparklcd  with  feverish  excitement.  She  seemed  determined  to  drown 
all  reflection  at  any  cost.  Her  conversation  with  her  sister  occa- 
sionally recurred  to  her,  and  she  sought  to  escape  from  such  sad 
recollections. 

Jacques  looked  at  Cephyse  from  time  to  time  with  passionate 
adoration,  for,  owing  to  the  singular  conformity  of  character,  mind, 
nnd  tastes,  which  existed  between  him  and  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  their 
attachment  had  much  deeper  and  more  substantial  root  than  are 
generally  found  in  connexion  with  such  ephemeral  associations  usually 
based  in  mere  pleasure.  Cephyse  and  Jacques  did  not  themselves 
comprehend  all  the  strength  of  a  love  which,  up  to  this  time,  had  been 
surrounded  by  enjoyments  and  festivities  which  no  events  had  as  yet 
crossed. 

Little  Rose  -  Pompon,  the  widow  for  the  several  last  days  of  a 
student  who,  in  order  to  end  the  carnival  in  a  befitting  manner,  had 
gone  into  the  country  to  endeavour  to  obtain  some  money  from  his 
family,  under  one  or  other  of  those  fabulous  excuses  which  tradition 
preserves  and  carefully  encourages  in  the  schools  of  law  and  medicine, 
— Rose-Pompon,  an  example  of  rare  fidelity,  unwilling  to  compromise 
herself,  had  selected  for  her  chaperon  the  harmless  Nini-Moulin. 

This  worthy  having  taken  off  his  casque,  shewed  a  bald  head,  sur- 
rounded by  a  border  of  black  hair,  which  hung  in  curls  some  way 
down  the  back  of  his  neck.  Through  a  bacchic  and  very  remarkable 
phenomenon,  in  proportion  as  his  intoxication  gained  upon  him,  a  sort 
of  zone,  as  purple  as  his  expansive  face,  gradually  appeared  on  his 
brow,  and  tinted  the  shining  whiteness  of  his  head.  Rose-Pompon, 
knowing  the  meaning  of  this  symptom,  pointed  it  out  to  the  company, 
and  exclaimed,  whilst  she  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter, — 

"  Nini-Moulin,  take  care,  the  tide  of  wine  is  rising  rapidly  I" 

"  When  it  reaches  the  top  of  his  head  he  will  be  drowned,"  added 
the  Queen-Bacchanal. 

"Oh,  queen,  seek  not  to  distract  my  attention — I  am  meditating!" 

"  Let  us  drink  to  the  success  of  your  Philemon,"  said  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal,  turning  to  Rose-Pompon. 

"And  to  the  'lump  of  tin'  which  he  hopes  to  draw  from  his  scaly 
brutes  of  relations  to  finish  the  carnival  with,"  added  Rose-Pompon. 
"  Luckily  he  is  regularly  on  his  mettle." 

"  Rose-Pompon  ! "  exclaimed  Nini-Moulin,  "  whether  you  made 
that  pun  purposely  or  not,  come,  my  love,  and  kiss  me." 

"  Many  thanks  ;  but  what  would  my  husband  say  ?  " 

"  Philemon  is  not  your  espoused  husband !  It  only  remains, 
therefore,  for  me  the  more  decidedly  to  extend  my  arms  to  you,  oh, 
Rose-Pompon  ! " 

"  I  can't  say  any  thing  about  that,  but  you  are,  too  ugly  ! " 

"  That 's  good  reasoning ;  so  I  will  drink  to  the  health  of  Phile- 
mon's endeavours.  Let  us  offer  up  our  vows  for  the  success  of  his 
'tin'  adventure." 

"  Willingly,"  said  Rose-Pompon.  "  To  the  health  of  that  im- 
portant article  in  the  items  of  a  student's  existence ! " 

"  And  also  to  the  means  by  which  they  consume  it,"  added 
Dumoulin. 

The  toast  was  druuk  in  bumpers,  aud  with  unanimous  applause. 


THE  RUVEILLE-MATIN.  397 

"  With  the  permission  of  her  majesty  and  her  court,"  said  Dumou- 
lin,  "  I  propose  a  toast,  the  success  of  which  interests  me,  and  has  some 
analogous  resemblance  to  the  '  tin '  quest  of  Philemon.  1  have  an 
idea  that  the  toast  will  bring  me  good  luck." 

"  Let  us  have  it." 

"  Well,  then,  success  to  my  marriage  ! "  said  Dumoulin,  rising. 

These  words  produced  one  universal  shout,  bursts  of  laughter,  and 
great  applause,  and  stamping  with  the  feet.  Nini-Moulin  shouted  and 
stamped  louder  than  any  body  else,  opening  wide  his  enormous  mouth, 
and  adding  to  the  astounding  din  the  harsh  sound  of  his  rattle,  which 
he  took  from  under  the  chair  where  he  had  placed  it. 

When  the  storm  had  somewhat  abated,  the  Queen-Bacchanal  rose 
and  said, — 

"I  drink  to  the  health  of  the  bride,  Madame  Nini-Moulin!" 

"Oh,  queen!  your  kindness  touches  me  so  sensibly,  that  I  must 
ask  you  to  read,  in  the  inmost  depths  of  my  heart,  the  name  of  my 
future  spouse,"  cried  Dumoulin.  "  She  is  called  Madame  the  Widow, 
Honoree-Modcste-Messalina-Angele  de  la  Sainte  Colombe!" 

"  Bravo  !  bravo ! " 

"  She  is  sixty  years  of  age,  and  has  more  thousands  of  francs 
a-year  than  she  has  hairs  in  her  grey  moustaches  and  wrinkles  in  her 
visage ;  her  plumpness  is  of  such  an  extent  that  one  of  her  gowns 
would  serve  as  a  tent  for  the  honourable  company  here  assembled. 
I  hope,  then,  to  present  to  you  my  future  wife  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  in 
the  costume  of  a  shepherdess  who  means  to  devour  her  own  flock. 
They  arc  desirous  of  converting  her ;  but  I  will  undertake  the  charge 
of  rfiverting  her,  and  she  will  prefer  that,  and  you  must  aid  me  in 
plunging  her  into  the  most  bacchanalian  and  rollicking  enjoyments." 

"  \Ve  will  plunge  her  into  any  thing  you  please." 

"  She  is  a  reveller  with  grey  locks,"  sung  Rose-Pompon,  to  a  well- 
known  tune. 

"  That  would  have  its  effect  with  the  sergcns-dc-ville." 

"  We  should  say  respect  the  lady ;  perhaps  your  own  mother  may 
Ije  as  old  some  day." 

Suddenly  the  Queen  Bacchanal  rose.  Her  countenance  had  a 
singular  expression  of  bitter  and  sarcastic  delight ;  she  held  a  glass 
brim  full  in  her  hand, — 

"  They  say,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  the  cholera  is  approaching  with 
its  seven-leagued  boots — I  drink  to  the  cholera!" 

And  she  drank. 

In  spite  of  the  general  gaiety  these  words  made  a  sinister  impression  : 
a  sort  of  electric  shudder  ran  through  the  assembly,  and  every  face 
became  suddenly  serious. 

"  Ah,  Cephyse  ! "  said  Jacques,  in  a  tone  of  reproach. 

"  To  the  cholera ! "  replied  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  fearlessly  ;  "  may 
it  spare  those  who  desire  to  live,  and  kill  those  in  company  who  do  not 
desire  to  live  separate  !  " 

Jacques  and  Cephyse  exchanged  a  rapid  look,  which  escaped  their 
joyous  companions,  and  for  some  time  the  Queen-Bacchanal  remained 
silent  and  thoughtful. 

"  Ah,  in  that  way  it  is  different,"  replied  Rose-Pompon,  with  a 


398  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

heedless  air  ;  "  here's  the  cholera  1  and  may  there  be  none  but  good 
fellows  left  on  earth  I " 

In  spite  of  this  variation  the  impression  was  still  oppressively 
painful.  Duuioulin  desirous  of  cutting  short  this  saddening  subject, 
exclaimed, — 

"Let  the  dead  go  to  the  devil ! — may  the  living  live  long  I  And, 
a-propos  of  living  and  good  livers,  I  will  ask  you  to  pledge  a  bumper 
to  a  health  dear  to  our  most  gracious  queen,  the  health  of  our  worthy 
Amphitryon.  Unfortunately,  I  do  not  know  the  respectable  name 
of  our  dear  host,  inasmuch  as  this  night  has  been  the  first  of  my 
acquaintance  with  him;  he  will,  therefore,  pardon  me  if  I  confine 
myself  to  proposing  the  health  of  Couche-tout-Nu, — a  name  which 
in  no  wise  shocks  my  modesty,  for  Adam  slept  in  no  other  guise. 
Now,  then,  for  Couche-tout-Nu  !" 

"  Thanks,  my  stout  friend,"  said  Jacques,  gaily.  "  If  I  forget 
your  name,  I  will  call  you  Qui-veut-boire  (who'll  drink?)  and,  sure  I 
am,  that  you  would  answer,  '  /  will ! ' ' 

"  I  will,  I  will,  most  readily  I "  said  Dumoulin,  making  a  military 
salute  with  one  hand,  and  holding  his  punchbowl  in  the  other. 

"When  we  have  pledged  together,"  replied  Couche-tout-Nu, 
cordially,  "  we  ought  to  know  one  another  thoroughly  ;  my  name 
is  Jacques  Rennepont  I "  « 

"  Rennepont ! "  exclaimed  Dumoulin,  who  was  struck  by  the  name, 
in  spite  of  his  half-drunkenness  ;  "your  name  is  Rennepont?" 

"  Rennepont,  and  no  mistake  ! — Does  that  astonish  you?" 

"  There  is  a  very  ancient  family  of  that  name,  the  Counts  de 
Rennepont  ?  " 

"  Oh,  indeed  ! "  said  Couche-tout-Nu,  laughing. 

"  The  Counts  de  Rennepont  are  also  Dukes  de  Cardoville,"  added 
Dumoulin. 

"Well,  really,  my  stout  gentleman,  do  I  seem  to  you  like  one 
sprung  from  such  a  family  ?  I,  a  workman,  at  my  fun  and  frolic  ?  " 

"  You  a  workman  I  why  we  are  falling  into  the  thousand  and  one 
nights,"  exclaimed  Dumoulin  more  and  more  surprised.  "  You  give 
us  a  Belshazzar's  feast  with  the  accompaniment  of  carriages  with  four 
horses,  and  you  a  workman  ?  " 

'« Come,  come,  don't  think  that  I  am  a  workman  in  bank-notes  and 
false  coin  ! "  said  Jacques,  laughing. 

"  What  a  supposition,  comrade !" 

"  It  is  excusable  when  you  see  the  pace  I  go  ;  but  I  will  disabuse 
your  mind,  I  am  spending  an  inheritance." 

"  Eating  and  drinking  some  respectable  old  uncle  defunct,  110 
doubt,"  said  Dumoulin,  smiling. 

"  I  really  do  not  know." 

"  What  I  do  not  know  who  or  what  you  arc  eating  and  drinking?" 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know  that  my  father  was  a  ragman 
(chiffonier)" 

"Indeed!"  said  Dumoulin,  the  more  out  of  countenance  as  he 
was  generally  scrupulous  in  the  choice  of  his  bottle  companions  ;  but, 
his  first  surprise  over,  he  added,  with  great  amenity,  "  there  arc  ragmen 
of  great  merit." 


THE  REVEILLE-MATIN. 

"  Pardieu  !  you  think  to  laugh  at  me,"  said  Jacques ;  "  and  you 
are  right,  my  father  was  a  man  of  great  merit,  certainly.  He  spoke 
Greek  and  Latin  like  a  professor,  and  always  told  me  that  he  had  not 
his  equal  for  mathematics,  and  besides  he  had  travelled  a  great  deal." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Dumoulin,  whom  his  surprise  sobered  very 
much,  "  you  may  still  belong  to  the  family  of  these  Counts  de  Renne- 
pont." 

"  If  so,"  said  Rose-Pompon,  with  a  laugh,  "  your  father  chif- 
fonerit  as  an  amateur,  and  just  for  the  honour  of  the  thing." 

"  No,  no,  misere  de  Dieu  f  it  was  for  his  living,"  replied  Jacques ; 
"  but  in  his  youth  he  was  in  easy  circumstances.  By  what  it  appeared, 
or  rather  by  what  did  not  appear,  he  had  addressed  himself  to  a  rich 
relation  he  had,  but  the  rich  relation  replied,  «  Can't,  really  ! '  Then 
he  wished  to  turn  his  Greek,  Latin,  and  mathematics  to  account — that 
was  impossible.  It  seems  that  then  Paris  was  choke  full  of  learned 
men,  so,  rather  than  starve,  he  looked  for  his  bread  at  the  end  of  his 
crooked  stick,  and  he  found  it  there,  too,  for  I  ate  of  it  for  two  years, 
when  I  came  to  live  with  him,  after  the  death  of  an  aunt  with  whom  I 
had  dwelt  in  the  country." 

"  Your  respectable  father,  then,  was  a  soit  of  philosopher,"  said 
Dumoulin  ;  "  but,  unless  he  found  an  inheritance  on  some  dunghill,  I 
see  nothing  of  the  inheritance  you  spoke  of." 

"  Hear  the  song  out.  At  the  age  of  twelve  I  was  apprenticed  at 
the  factory  of  M.  Tripeaud  ;  two  years  afterwards  my  father  died  of 
an  accident,  leaving  me  the  furniture  of  our  garret,  a  bed,  a  chair,  a 
table,  and  besides,  in  a  broken  Eau  de  Cologne  box,  some  papers, 
written,  it  appears,  in  English,  and  a  bronze  medal,  which,  with  its 
chain,  was  worth  about  ten  sous.  He  had  never  spoken  to  me  about 
these  papers,  and,  not  knowing  that  they  were  good  for  any  thing,  I 
had  kept  them  at  the  bottom  of  an  old  trunk  instead  of  burning  them  ; 
and  it  was  well  I  did  so,  for  on  these  papers  I  have  had  some  money 
left  me." 

"  What  a  mercy  from  Heaven  I "  said  Dumoulin.  "  But,  then, 
somebody  knew  that  you  had  them  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  one  of  the  men  who  are  always  on  the  look-ont  for  old 
debts,  came  to  Cephyse,  who  told  me  of  it,  and,  after  he  had  read  the 
papers,  the  man  told  me  that  the  aft'air  was  doubtful,  but  he  would 
lend  me  ten  thousand  francs  on  them,  if  I  liked.  Ten  thousand 
francs  (400/.),  that  was  a  treasure,  and  I  accepted  it  directly." 

"  But.  you  must  have  supposed  that  these  old  debts  must  have  been 
of  great  value  ?  " 

"  No,  really,  since  my  father,  who  ought  to  have  known  their  value, 
did  not  make  any  use  of  them  ;  and  then,  ten  thousand  francs,  in  good 
and  handsome  crowns,  which  fell  from  one  does  not  know  where — 
that  was  a  temptation,  and  I  took  them  ;  only  the  agent  made  me  sign  a 
bill  of  guarantee — yes,  that's  it,  guarantee." 

"  And  did  you  sign  it?  " 

"  Of  course,  yes !  it  was  a  mere  matter  of  form,  as  the  man  of 
business  assured  me,  and  he.  spoke  truly,  since  it  has  been  due  more 
than  a  fortnight  without  my  having  heard  a  syllable  about  it.  I  have  still 
about  a  thousand  francs  remaining  in  the  hands  of  the  agent,  whom  1 
took  as  my  banker,  because  he  i'uruished  the  cash.  So  now,  my  boys, 


400  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

you  sec  how  and  why  it  is  I  sing  all  day  blithe  as  a  lark,  since,  thanks 
to  my  ten  thousand  francs,  I  have  been  enabled  to  quit  my  beggarly 
master,  M.  Tripeaud  I " 

As  Jacques  pronounced  this  name,  his  hitherto  merry,  joyous  coun- 
tenance became  suddenly  overcast,  while  Cephyse,  no  longer  under 
the  influence  of  the  painful  ideas  which  had  lately  occupied  her  mind, 
beheld  M'ith  considerable  uneasiness  the  change  in  Jacques'  manner, 
well  knowing  the  irritation  any  allusion  to  M.  Tripeaud  always  pro- 
duced throughout  his  whole  nature. 

"  M.  Tripeaud,"  resumed  Couche-tout-Nu,  "  is  just  the  man  to 
render  the  good  bad,  and  the  bad  worse.  People  say  a  good  master 
makes  a  good  horse.  They  ought  to  say  a  kind  master  makes  a  faith- 
ful servant.  By  Heaven's  mercy,  when  I  think  of  that  fellow!"  cried 
Couche-tout-Nu,  striking  his  hand  violently  on  the  table. 

"  Never  mind  him,  Jacques  ! "  interrupted  the  Bacchanal  Queen  ; 
"  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Come,  Rose-Pompon,  try  and  say 
something  to  make  him  laugh." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  humour  to  laugh,"  replied  Jacques,  in  an  abrupt 
tone,  and  somewhat  excited  by  the  wine  he  had  taken ;  "  it  gets  the 
better  of  me  whenever  I  think  of  that  man !  it  regularly  works  me  up 
when  I  recollect  how  he  used  to  treat  his  poor  devils  of  workpeople. 
I  think  I  hear  him  bawling  at  them,  '  Here,  you  beggars ! — you  ras- 
cals of  workmen  I  they  pretend  they  have  no  food  in  their  insides,'  he 
would  say,  '  Well,  then,  fill  their  bellies  with  bayonet-tJi  rusts*  that  will 
put  an  end  to  their  hungry  cravings ! '  And  then  the  poor  children  in 
his  manufactory — you  should  see  them — poor  little  creatures — work- 
ing as  many  hours  as  grown-up  men,  and  so  wasting  and  dying  by 
dozens ;  but  what  does  that  signify  ?  let  them  die  as  fast  as  they  may, 
there  are  always  plenty  of  others  to  take  their  place.  Not  like  horses, 
which  must  be  bought  and  paid  for  before  they  can  be  replaced." 

"  It  is  pretty  clear  you  are  not  over-partial  to  your  late  master," 
said  Dumoulin,  more  and  more  surprised  at  the  gloomy,  thoughtful  air 
of  his  Amphitryon,  and,  greatly  regretting  the  serious  tone  the  conver- 
sation had  assumed,  he  whispered  a  few  words  in  the  ear  of  the  Queen- 
Bacchanal,  who  returned  a  corresponding  sign  of  intelligence. 

"  Partial ! "  exclaimed  Couche-tout-Nu.  "  Not  I.  I  hate  him, 
and  do  you  know  why  ?  Because  is  it  as  much  his  fault  as  mine,  that 
I  have  become  the  careless  fellow  I  now  am.  I  don't  say  that  to  ex- 
cuse myself,  but  it  is  the  truth.  When  I  was  a  lively,  rollicking  young 
chap,  and  first  apprenticed  to  him,  I  was  all  heart,  ardour,  and  energy, 
and  so  bent  upon  working  hard,  that  I  used  to  take  my  shirt  on"  while 
engaged  at  my  daily  task ;  and  this,  by  the  by,  it  was  that  procured 
me  the  nickname  of  Couche-tout-Nu.  Well,  there  I  toiled,  sweated, 
taxed  my  strength  even  beyond  my  then  powers.  Not  one  encourag- 
ing word  or  look  did  I  ever  receive.  I  was  always  the  first  to  com- 
mence M-ork,  and  the  last  to  leave  off;  but  no  one  seemed  even  to 
notice  it.  Not  a  word  of  commendation  did  my  industry  and  diligence- 
obtain.  One  day  I  received  a  severe  hurt  from  the  machine  we  em- 
ployed in  our  business ;  I  was  carried  to  an  hospital :  as  soon  as  it  was 

*  This  revolting  expression  was  actually  mude  use  of  during  the  deplorable 
events  which  occurred  at  Lyons. 


THE  REVEILLE-MATIN*.  401 

possible  for  me  to  quit  it,  I  left,  still  weak  and  unfit  to  work ;  but, 
an \inus  to  resume  my  labours,  I  was  not  discouraged  even  by  tho  other 
workmen,  who  knew  their  master  better  than  I  did,  and  were  well  aware 
how  small  would  be  the  advantage  resulting  from  such  energy  as  mine  ; 
in  vain  did  they  argue  with  me  on  the  folly  of  over-exerting  myself  as  1 
was  doing.  '  What  is  the  lad  thinking,'  cried  they,  '  to  be  wearing  the 
very  Hesh  off  his  bones  thus  ?  What  good  do  you  expect  to  get  by  it? 
Don't  be  a  simpleton  !  but  do  your  precise  task  of  work,  neither  more 
nor  less;  you  will  be  just  as  well  off.'  This  was  all  very  well ;  but  it 
did  not  deter  me.  from  working  like  a  dragon,  till,  one  day,  a  worthy 
old  fellow,  named  Arsene,  who  had  been  employed  in  the  manufactory 
a  number  of  years,  and  was  always  considered  a  model  for  all  the  other 
men  on  the  premises,  as  regarded  his  skill  and  excellent  character  as  a 
workman — one  day  poor  old  Arst%ne  was  turned  off,  because  his  strength 
failed  him  too  rapidly  ;  this  was  a  death-blow  to  the  honest  fellow, 
who,  besides  having  an  infirm  wife,  was  well  aware  that,  from  his  ad- 
vanced age,  he  could  not  hope  to  obtain  employment  elsewhere.  When 
the  clerk  of  the  works  brought  him  his  discharge,  he  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve what  he  heard,  but  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  weeping ;  at  this 
instant  M.  Tripcaud  chanced  to  pass  by ;  and  old  Arsene,  clasping 
his  hands,  besought,  with  affecting  earnestness,  that  he  might  be  kept 
on  at  half  his  usual  wages. 

"  '  Why,  my  good  man,'  answered  M.  Tripeaud,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  '  do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  turn  my  manufactory  into 
an  hospital  for  worn-out  workmen?  You  cannot  serve  me  further, 
therefore  out  you  must  go!' 

"  '  But,  good  sir,  think  of  the  forty  years  I  have  faithfully  worked 
in  your  employ.  What  will  become  of  me,  if  you  discharge  me  ?  No 
one  will  give  me  work  at  my  age.  My  poor  wife  and  I  must  starve!' 

"'Well,  what  have  I  to  do  with  that?'  asked  M.  Tripeaud, 
roughly.  Then,  calling  one  of  his  clerks,  he  said,  '  Make  out  what  is 
owing  to  this  man,  and  send  him  about  his  business  ! ' 

"  Poor  old  Arsene  was  sent  about  his  business  ;  but  what  v.  as  that 
business  ?  Why,  to  purchase  sufficient  charcoal  to  end  the  existence 
and  miseries  of  himself  and  bed-ridden  partner.  Both  were  found 
next  day  suffocated  in  their  bed.  Now  I  was  a  lad  at  this  time,  a 
mere  rattling,  rollicking  chap  as  you  would  be  likely  to  see ;  but  the 
history  of  old  Arsene  taught  me  the  folly  of  toiling  on,  to  the  injury  of 
one's  own  health,  merely  to  benefit  a  master  who  did  not  value  you 
a  jot  the  more,  and  when  your  only  prospect  in  old  age  was  to  find 
some  means  of  shaking  off  the  life  which  was  merely  a  useless  incum- 
brance.  These  reflections  for  ever  extinguished  my  ardour  for  work  ; 
for,  said  I,  how  much  better  off  shall  I  be  for  doing  more  than  I  am 
obliged  ?  Suppose  by  the  fruits  of  my  labour  M.  Tripeaud  were  to 
amass  heaps  of  gold,  should  I  be  one  farthing  the  richer  ?  Thus,  then, 
having  no  motive,  either  of  interest  or  personal  pride,  in  working,  I 
took  a  regular  disgust  to  doing  more  than  w-as  absolutely  necessary  to 
obtain  my  wages,  and  became  a  noisy,  careless,  pleasure-seeking  fellow, 
comforting  myself  with  the  idea  that,  when  I  was  tired  with  working 
at  all,  1  could  just  escape  by  the  same  means  which  had  delivered  old 
Arsene  and  his  wife." 

While  Jacques  was  thus  allowing  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  these 
26  D  D 


402  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

painful  recollections,  the  guests,  instructed  by  the  pantomimic  gestures 
of  Dumoulin  and  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  had  tacitly  arranged  their 
plans ;  thus,  therefore,  at  a  signal  from  the  Queen-Bacchanal,  who 
sprang  on  the  table,  knocking  over  the  bottles  and  glasses  she  encoun- 
tered, the  whole  party  rose,  uttering  loud  cries,  to  the  accompaniment 
of  Nini-Moulin's  rattle,  for  the  "  TULIPE  OKAGEUSE!  the  quadrille  of 
the  tulipe  orageuse  1 " 

At  the  sudden  burst  of  these  joyous  demands  for  a  renewal  of  their 
uproarious  mirth,  Jacques  started,  gazed  round  for  an  instant  with  a 
bewildered  and  astonished  look,  then  pressing  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head, as  though  to  collect  his  ideas  and  banish  the  gloomy  feelings 
which  possessed  him,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  You  are  right,  you  are  right  I  Now,  then,  en  avant  deux  !  let's 
be  merry,  and  a  fig  for  care  I " 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  a  number  of  powerful  arms  had  con- 
veyed the  table  to  the  other  end  of  the  large  saloon  in  which  the  ban- 
quet was  given ;  the  spectators  placed  themselves  on  chairs,  benches, 
and  even  on  the  window-ledges,  and  commenced  the  duties  of  an  or- 
chestra, by  singing,  in  loud  chorus,  the  well-known  air  necessary  for 
the  dance  about  to  be  executed  by  Couche-tout-Nu,  the  Queen-Bac- 
chanal, Nini-Moulin,  and  Rose-Pompon. 

Dumoulin,  confiding  his  rattle  to  one  of  the  guests,  resumed  his 
enormous-plumed  Roman  helmet ;  he  had  taken  off  his  cloak  at  the 
commencement  of  the  banquet,  so  that  he  now  appeared  in  all  the 
splendour  of  his  disguise — his  cuirass  of  shining  scales  of  steel  termi- 
nated oddly  enough  in  a  petticoat  of  feathers,  similar  to  those  worn  by 
the  savages  who  escorted  the  principal  party  during  the  procession  of 
the  Bceuf  Gras.  Nini-Moulin  possessed  a  large  stomach,  and  very 
thin  legs,  which  very  inadequately  filled  the  opening  afforded  by  his 
large  turned-down  boots. 

The  sweet  little  Rose-Pompon,  her  military  cap  stuck  jantily  at 
the  side  of  her  head,  her  two  hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  her 
trousers,  and  bending  her  pliant  little  body  gracefully  from  side  to 
side,  advanced  in  the  avant  deux,  with  Nini-Moulin,  who,  drawing 
himself  all  of  a  heap,  advanced  by  sudden  springs,  his  left  leg  bent 
under  him,  the  right  leg  extended,  the  toe  in  the  air,  and  the  heel 
sliding  on  the  floor  ;  then  he  struck  the  nape  of  his  neck  with  his  left 
hand,  while  by  a  simultaneous  movement  he  briskly  extended  his 
right  arm,  as  though  he  wished  to  sprinkle  powder  in  t/te  eyes  of  his 
opposite  neighbour. 

This  opening  whim  was  loudly  and  noisily  applauded,  though  it 
formed  only  the  innocent  prelude  to  the  admired  dance  of  the  tulipe 
orageuse,  when  all  at  once  a  door  opened,  and  one  of  the  waiters,  hav- 
ing for  a  minute  or  two  gazed  about  in  search  of  Couche-tout-Nu,  ran 
up  to  him,  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  ear. 

"  Me  I "  exclaimed  Jacques,  bursting  into  loud  laughter ;  "  what  a 
joke!" 

The  waiter  having  added  some  further  words,  a  visible  uneasiness 
took  possession  of  the  features  of  Couche-tout-Nu,  who  replied  to  the 
waiter's  information  by  saying, — 

"  Very  well,  I  will  come ! "  And  with  these  words  he  was  pro- 
ceeding towards  the  door. 


THE  ADIEOX.  403 

"What  is  the  matter,  Jacques?"  inquired  the  Queen-Bacchanal, 
with  surprise. 

"  Go  on  dancing  !  "  replied  Couche-tout-Nu,  "  let  some  one  take 
my  place  for  a  few  minutes — I  shall  be  back  directly  I  "  So  saying,  he 
hastily  quitted  the  apartment. 

"  I  dare  say  there  is  something  they  have  omitted  to  mention  in 
the  bill  of  fare,"  observed  Dumoulin  ;  "  our  friend  will  soon  return 
when  he  has  ordered  it !  " 

"  No  doubt,"  said  C6physe.  "Now  then,  cavalier  seul!"  said  she 
to  the  person  who  had  advanced  and  taken  Jacques's  place ;  and  the 
dancing  continued  with  unabated  animation. 

Nini-Moulin  had  just  taken  Rose-Pompon  by  the  right  hand,  and 
the  Queen-Bacchanal  by  the  left,  in  order  to  balance  between  the  two ; 
in  doing  which  he  introduced  the  most  absurd  and  ridiculous  buf- 
foonery, when  again  the  door  opened,  and  the  waiter  who  had  called 
Jacques  out  hastily  approached  Cephyse  with  an  air  of  unfeigned 
alarm,  and  spoke  in  her  ear  as  he  had  whispered  in  that  of  Couche- 
tout-Nu. 

At  the  words  he  uttered,  the  Queen-Bacchanal  became  pale  as 
death,  she  uttered  a  piercing  cry,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room  without 
uttering  a  word,  leaving  her  guests  in  speechless  amazement. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

THE  ADIEUX. 

THE  Queen-Bacchanal  following  the  waiter,  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  staircase. 

A  hackney-coach  was  at  the  door.  In  this  coach  she  saw  Couche- 
tout-Nu,  with  one  of  the  men  who,  two  hours  before,  had  been  sta- 
tioned in  the  Place-du-Chatelet. 

On  the  arrival  of  Cephyse  the  man  descended,  and  said  to  Jacques, 
drawing  out  his  watch, — 

"  I  give  you  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  that  is  all  I  can  do  for  you, 
my  good  fellow ;  after  that  we  must  go.  Do  not  attempt  to  escape, 
for  we  shall  keep  guard  at  the  doors  whilst  the  coach  remains  here." 
With  one  bound  Cephyse  was  in  the  vehicle. 

Too  much  agitated  to  speak  before,  she  exclaimed,  as  she  seated 
herself  beside  Jacques  and  saw  how  ghastly  he  looked, — 

"  What  ails  you  ?     What  do  they  want  of  you  ?  " 

"  They  have  arrested  me  for  debt,"  said  Jacques,  in  a  hollow 
voice. 

"  You  ?  "  cried  Cephyse,  in  an  agonised  accent. 

"  Yes,  for  the  bill  of  guarantee  which  the  agent  made  me  sign : 
he  said  it  was  but  a  mere  foim — the  scoundrel  I  " 

"  But  you  have  mouey  still  in  his  hands,  let  him  have  that  on 
account" 


404  THE  WANDEUING  JEW. 

"  I  have  not  a  sous  left — he  scuds  word  by  the  bailiff  that  he 
would  not  hand  me  the  last  thousand  francs,  as  1  had  not  paid  the  bill 
of  exchange." 

"  Let  us  go  and  entreat  him — supplicate  him,  to  set  you  at  liberty  I 
lie  came  to  you  to  offer  this  money,  I  know  that ;  because  it  was  to 
me  that  he  iirst  came.  He  will  surely  take  pity." 

"  Pity  !  What,  an  agent  have  pity  ?  You  know  nothing  of  those 
men " 

"  Then,  there  is  no  hope — none,"  exclaimed  Ccphyse,  clasping  her 
hands  Avitli  anguish.  Then  she  added,  "  But  surely  he  will  do  some- 
thing ;  he  promised  you " 

"  His  promises  !  You  see  how  he  fulfils  them,"  said  Jacques,  with 
bitterness.  "I  signed  without  knowing  what  I  signed;  the  time  for 
payment  is  overdue,  and  it  is  all  regular.  It  is  of  no  use  for  me  to 
resist,  they  have  explained  all  that  to  me." 

"  But  they  cannot  detain  you  long  in  prison,  that's  impossible ! " 

"  Five  years,  if  I  do  not  pay  ;  and,  as  I  never  can  pay,  why,  my 
fate  is  settled." 

"  Oh,  what  a  misfortune,  what  a  misery,  and  we  can  do  nothing  I " 
said  Cephyse,  hiding  her  head  in  her  hands. 

"Listen,  Cephyse,"  replied  Jacques,  in  a  voice  full  of  deep  emo- 
tion. "  Since  this  has  befallen  me,  I  have  only  thought  of  one  thing — 
what  is  to  become  of  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do  not  be  uneasy  about  me  1 " 

"  Not  be  uneasy  about  you  !  why,  you  are  out  of  your  senses. 
What  can  you  do  ?  The  furniture  of  our  two  apartments  is  not  worth 
200  francs.  (8/.)  We  have  wasted  our  money  so  foolishly,  that  we 
have  not  even  paid  for  our  lodging — we  owe  three  quarters:  there- 
fore we  must  not  rely  on  tUe  sale  of  the  furniture.  1  leave  you  with- 
out  a  sous.  As  for  me,  they  must  at  least  feed  me  in  the  prison — but 
how  are  you  to  live  ?  " 

"  Why  annoy  yourself  about  that  in  anticipation  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  how  you  are  to  live  over  to-morrow,"  said  Jacques. 

"I  will  sell  my  dress,  some  small  things  I  have,  and  send  you 
half  the  money.  I  will  keep  the  rest,  which  will  last  me  several  days  !" 

"  And  then,  afterwards  ?  " 

u  Afterwards — why,  then  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  —  what  can 
I  say? — afterwards  we  shall  see." 

"Listen,  Cephyse,"  resumed  Jacques,  with  bitter  emotion;  "now 
I  feel  how  much  I  love  you — my  heart  seems  as  if  it  were  squeezed  in 
a  vice,  when  I  think  of  quitting  you — I  am  in  an  agony  to  think  what 
will  become  of  you  I "  Then,  passing  his  hand  over  his  forehead, 
Jacques  added :  "  You  see  now  what  has  undone  us, — ever  saying 
always,  '  Oh,  to-morrow  will  never  come  I "  yet,  you  see  it  docs 
come.  Now  that  I  shall  not  be  near  you,  and  that  you  will  have 
expended  the  last  farthing  of  the  things  you  are  going  to  sell — unable 
to  work  as  you  are — what  will  you  do  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  what  you 
will  do  ?  You  will  forget  me,  and " 

Then,  as  if  he  recoiled  from  his  own  thoughts,  Jacques  cried,  with 
rage  and  despair, — 

"  Misere  cle  Dicu  !  if  that  happened  to  me,  I  would  dash  out  my 
brains  on  the  paving-stones  I " 


THE  ADIEUX.  405 

C6physe  guessed  the  thoughts  of  Jacques,  and,  throwing  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  said  touchingly, — 

"  I  ?  another  lover  ?  Never !  for,  like  yourself,  I  feel  now  how 
entirely  I  love  you." 

"  But  to  exist,  my  poor  Cephyse — to  exist?" 

"  Well,  I  shall  take  courage,  and  go  and  live  with  my  sister,  as  I 
did  before.  I  will  work  with  her,  and  that  will  always  give  me  bread. 
I  shall  only  go  out  to  see  you.  In  a  few  days,  perhaps,  the  agent,  on 
reflection,  will  think  that  you  cannot  pay  him  the  ten  thousand  francs, 
and  he  will  set  you  at  liberty.  I  shall  have  resumed  the  habit  of 
labour  —  you'll  see,  you'll  see  !  You  will  also  return  to  work.  We 
shall  live  poor,  but  quiet ;  and,  after  all,  we  shall  have  had  a  great  deal 
of  amusement  for  six  months,  whilst  how  many  are  there  who  in  all 
their  lives  have  never  known  pleasure !  Believe  what  I  say,  my  dear 
Jacques,  for  it  is  true.  I  shall  profit  by  this  lesson  ;  so,  if  you  love  me, 
do  not  be  in  the  least  uneasy  :  I  tell  you  this,  I  would  rather  die  a 
hundred  times  than  have  another  lover !" 

"  Embrace  me,"  said  Jacques,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  ;  "  I  believe 
you — I  believe  you.  You  know  my  courage  now ;  and  for  the  future — 
you  arc  right — we  must  try  and  return  to  work;  if  not,  the  bushel  of 
charcoal,  like  father  Arsene !  For,"  added  Jacques,  in  a  low  and 
tremulous  voice — "  for  six  months  I  was  as  it  were  always  intoxicated ; 
now  I  have  suddenly  become  sobered,  and  I  see  whither  we  were 
hurrying.  Once  at  the  end  of  our  resources,  I  might  have  turned 
thief,  and  you " 

"  Oh,  Jacques,  you  frighten  me  !  Do  not  say  that ! "  exclaimed 
Cephyse,  interrupting  Couche-tout-Nu :  "  I  swear  to  you  that 
I  will  return  to  my  sister;  I  will  work,  and  shall  bear  up  my 
courage." 

The  Queen-Bacchanal,  at  this  moment,  was  quite  sincere  :  she  was 
anxious  to  keep  her  word  resolutely.  Her  heart  was  not,  as  yet, 
wholly  perverted :  misery  and  need  had  been  to  her,  as  they  have  been 
for  so  many  others,  the  cause  and  even  the  excuse  of  her  going  astray; 
and  up  to  this- time  she  had  at  least  followed  the  inclination  of  her 
heart,  without  any  base  and  venal  considerations.  The  cruel  position 
in  which  she  saw  Jacques  placed  increased  her  love,  and  she  believed 
that  she  was  quite  sure  of  herself  when  she  swore  to  him  that  she 
would  return  to  La  Mayeux  and  resume  her  life  of  barren  and  inces- 
sant labour — that  life  of  painful  deprivation  which  she  had  been  unable 
to  support  before,  and  which  must  of  necessity  be  still  more  painful  to 
return  to,  as  she  had  since  led  a  life  of  idleness  and  dissipation.  But 
the  assurances  which  she  gave  Jacques  somewhat  calmed  the  distress 
and  disquietude  which  he  experienced.  He  had  sufficient  good  sense 
and  good  feeling  to  perceive  the  headlong  and  fatal  course  he  had 
born  pursuing,  and  which  was  blindly  leading  himself  and  Cephyse  in 
the  high  and  rapid  road  to  infamy. 

One  of  the  bailiffs,  having  rapped  at  the  door,  said  to  Jacques, — 

"  My  fine  fellow,  make  haste — you  have  only  five  minutes  more  !" 

"  Well,  then,  my  dear  girl,  courage  !  "  said  Jacques. 

"  Make  yourself  easy — I  will  have  courage,  rely  on  it ! " 

"  You  will  not  return  up  stairs  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Cephyse,  "  I  have  a  horror  of  this  fete  now!" 


406  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  I  paid  for  all  in  advance,  and  I  will  desire  the  waiter  to  inform 
them  that  they  need  not  expect  us  again,"  added  Jacques.  "  They 
will  be  somewhat  astonished,  but  that  is  of  no  consequence." 

"If  you  could  only  go  to  our  lodgings  with  me,"  said  Cephyse; 
"  and  perhaps  this  man  will  let  you,  for  you  cannot  go  to  Sainte- 
Pelagie  dressed  in  this  way." 

"  That's  true,  and  he  will  not  refuse  to  let  you  accompany  me ; 
but,  as  he  will  be  with  us  in  the  coach,  we  cannot  say  any  thing  before 
him:  so  let  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  talk  sense.  Recollect 
well,  my  Cephyse,  what  I  say  to  you — and  it  is  as  suitable  to  myself  as 
to  yourself,"  said  Jacques,  in  a  serious  and  earnest  tone, — "  begin  this 
very  day  your  habits  of  industry.  It  will  be  painful,  difficult:  no  mat- 
ter, do  not  hesitate,  or  you  will  soon  begin  this  lesson ;  or,  as  you  say 
yourself,  later  it  will  not  be  time ;  and  then  you  will  end  like  so  many 
other  unfortunate You  understand  me?" 

"I  do,"  said  Cephyse,  blushing;  "but  I  would  a  hundred  times 
prefer  death  to  such  a  life." 

"  And  you  are  right ;  for  in  this  case,"  added  Jacques,  in  a  low 
and  concentrated  voice,  "  I  would  aid  you  to  die." 

"  I  rely  on  you,  Jacques,"  replied  Cephyse,  embracing  her  lover 
with  fervour,  and  then  adding,  sorrowfully,  "  I  believe  it  was  a  presenti- 
ment when,  just  now,I  felt  myself  suddenly  melancholy,  without  know- 
ing why,  in  the  midst  of  our  mirth,  and  drank  to  the  cholera,  and 
that  it  would  kill  us  together." 

"  Well,  who  knows  that  it  will  not  come — the  cholera  ?  "  replied 
Jacques,  with  a  saddened  air  ;  "  that  will  save  the  charcoal,  and  per- 
haps we  should  not  have  money  left  to  buy  it !" 

"  I  can  only  say  one  thing,  Jacques ;  and  that  is,  you  will  always 
find  me  ready  to  live  and  die  with  you  1" 

"  Come,  come,  dry  your  eyes  I "  he  muttered,  with  deep  emotion : 

"  do  not  let  us  play  the  fool  before  these  men  I" 

***** 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  the  coach  moved  on  towards  Jacques's 
lodgings,  where  he  was  to  change  his  clothes  before  he  went  to  prison 
for  debt. 

***** 

Let  us  repeat,  apropos  of  the  sister  of  La  Mayeux  (it  is  a  subject 
which  we  cannot  too  often  repeat),  one  of  the  most  injurious  conse- 
quences of  the  want  of  organisation  in  labour  is  the  insufficiency  of 
wages. 

The  insufficiency  of  wages  inevitably  forces  the  greater  number 
of  young  girls,  thus  badly  remunerated,  to  seek  for  a  means  of  exist- 
ence by  forming  depraved  connexions. 

Sometimes  they  receive  a  moderate  sum  from  their  lover,  which, 
joined  to  the  produce  of  their  own  labour,  helps  them  to  a  livelihood ; 
sometimes,  like  the  sister  of  La  Mayeux,  they  completely  abandon 
labour,  and  live  with  the  man  they  select,  when  he  is  able  to  support 
both :  then,  during  this  time  of  pleasure  and  entire  cessation  from 
labour,  the  incurable  leprosy  of  idleness  for  ever  takes  hold  of  these 
unhappy  creatures. 

This  is  the  first  phase  of  degradation  in  which  the  culpable  care- 
lessness of  society  involves  an  immense  number  of  females  of  the 


THE  ADIEUX.  407 

working  classes,  born  with  the  instincts  of  modesty,  propriety,  and 
good  conduct. 

At  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  these  lovers  grow  tired,  and  forsake 
them,  and  perhaps  when  they  have  become  mothers. 

Occasionally  a  wild  prodigality  conducts  some  inconsiderate  wretch 
to  prison ;  and  then  the  young  girl  is  alone,  abandoned,  and  without 
means  of  existence. 

Those  who  have  preserved  their  courage  and  good  feeling  return 
to  labour;  but  their  number  is  very  few.  Others,  impelled  by  misery 
or  the  habits  of  an  idle  and  easy  life,  then  fall  into  the  lowest  depths 
of  degradation. 

They  ought  to  be  more  blamed  than  pitied  for  this  degradation, 
for  the  first  and  virtual  cause  of  their  fall  was  (lie  insufficient  amount 
of  their  pay  or  failure  of  employ.* 

Another  deplorable  circumstance  of  the  want  of  organisation  of 
labour  is  for  men,  beside  the  insufficiency  of  wages,  the  deep  dis- 
gust with  which  they  fulfil  the  task  imposed  upon  them. 

That  may  be  conceived. 

Is  there  any  attempt  to  make  work  agreeable,  either  by  its  variety, 
or  honourable  recompense,  or  kindness,  or  a  remuneration  propor- 
tionate to  the  results  of  their  handicraft,  or  by  the  hope  of  an  annuity 
assured  to  them  after  long  years  of  labour  ? 

No ;  the  country  neither  knows  nor  cares  for  their  wants  or  their 
rights. 

And  yet,  to  refer  to  one  branch  of  trade :  the  mechanics  and  work- 
men in  factories,  who,  exposed  to  the  explosion  of  steam  and  contact 
with  innumerable  wheels,  every  day  run  greater  dangers  than  sol- 
diers incur  in  a  war,  display  a  great  deal  of  practical  skill,  render  to 
their  business,  and,  consequently,  the  country,  undeniable  services, 
during  a  long  and  honourable  career,  unless  they  are  killed  by  the 
bursting  of  a  boiler  or  have  some  limb  maimed  by  the  iron  teeth  of  a 
machine. 

In  this  latter  case  does  the  workman  receive  a  reward  equal  to 
that  of  the  soldier  as  the  price  of  this  courage,  laudable  but  unpro- 
ductive— a  berth  in  a  house  for  invalids  ? 

No. 

What  is  it  to  his  country  ?  and,  if  the  master  of  the  workman  is 
ungrateful,  the  maimed  man  incapable  of  service,  dies  of  hunger  in 
some  hole  or  corner. 

In  these  pompous  fetes  of  industry,  do  they  ever  call  for  any  of 
those  skilful  workmen  who  alone  have  produced  those  splendid  tissues 
and  stuffs,  have  forged  and  damasked  those  brilliant  weapons,  chi- 
selled those  cups  of  gold  or  silver,  engraved  those  pieces  of  ebony  or 
ivory,  mounted  those  brilliant  stones  with  such  exquisite  art  ? 

No. 

*  Wo  read  in  an  excellent  pamphlet,  filled  with  practical  views  and  dictated  by  a 
charitable  and  elevated  mind  (National  league  againtt  the  Misery  of  Workpeople  ;  or, 
a  Memorandum  explanatory  of  a  Petition  to  be  pretexted  to  the  Chamber  of  Dcjmt'u-s,  by 

J.  Terson,  —  Paulin  Editeur),  these  lines,  unfortunately  but  too  true: "  We  do 

not  speak  of  workwomen  placed  in  the  same  alternative, — what  we  should  have  to 
say  would  be  too  painful ;  we  only  assert,  that  it  is  during  the  periods  when  work 
ceases  for  the  longest  time  that  the  emissaries  of  prostitution  recruit  their  proselytes 
from  among  the  handsomest  females  in  the  humbler  classes," 


408  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

Obscured  in  tho  depths  of  the  garret,  in  the  midst  of  a  miserable 
and  famished  family,  they  hardly  exist  on  a  miserable  salary — those 
very  individuals  who,  it  will  be  confessed,  have  contributed  at  least 
half  to  enrich  the  country  with  those  marvels  which  make  its  wealth, 
its  boast,  and  its  pride. 

A  minister  of  commerce,  who  had  the  least  comprehension  of 
his  high  functions  and  his  DUTIES,  should  demand  that  each  production 
exhibited  should  be  represented  by  a  certain  number  of  the  most  meri- 
torious candidates,  among  whom  the  producer  should  point  out  the 
person  who  seemed  to  him  most  worthy  to  represent  the  worhing  class 
in  those  grand  industrial  solemnities. 

Would  it  not  be  a  noble  and  encouraging  example  to  see  the 
master  propose  for  rewards  or  public  distinctions  the  workman  de- 
puted by  his  fellows  as  one  of  the  most  honest,  hard-working,  and  in- 
telligent in  his  profession  ? 

Then  a  fearful  injustice  would  disappear ;  then  the  virtues  of  the 
workman  would  be  stimulated  by  a  generous  and  lofty  aim ;  then  he 
would  have  an  interest  in  being  well  conducted. 

No  doubt  the  producer,  by  reason  of  the  intelligence  which  he  dis- 
plays, the  capital  he  ventures,  the  establishment  he  founds,  and  the 
good  which  he  sometimes  effects,  has  a  legitimate  right  to  the  dis- 
tinctions with  which  he  is  honoured  ;  but  wherefore  is  the  workman 
so  pitilessly  excluded  from  those  rewards  whose  operation  on  tho 
masses  is  so  powerful  ?  * 

Are  generals  and  officers  the  only  individuals  who  are  rewarded 
in  our  army  ? 

After  having  justly  remunerated  the  chiefs  of  this  powerful  and 
productive  array  of  industry,  why  are  not  its  soldiers  thought  of  ? 

Why  is  there  never  exhibited  the  sign  of  a  brilliant  reward  for 
them? — some  consoling  and  kind  word  from  an  august  lip?  Why 
do  we  see  in  France  not  one  workman  decorated,  as  the  reward  of 
his  skill,  his  industrial  courage,  his  long  and  laborious  career  ?  The 
cross,  and  the  modest  pension  which  accompanies  it,  would  have  for 
him  a  double  and  justly  merited  recompense.  But  no.  For  the 
humble  toil — the  toil  that  really  produces,  there  is  but  forgetfulness, 
injustice,  indifference,  and  disdain. 

And  this  public  neglect,  often  aggravated  by  the  selfishness  and 
severity  of  the  ungrateful  employer,  produces  the  deplorable  state  of 
the  workmen. 

Some,  in  spite  of  incessant  labour,  live  on  in  privation  and  die 
prematurely,  cursing  the  society  which  forsakes  them.  Others  seek  a 
temporary  oblivion  of  their  woes  in  excessive  and  ruinous  intoxica- 
tion. 

A  great  number,  having  no  interest,  no  advantage,  no  moral  or 
material  motive  for  doing  more  or  better,  confine  themselves  to  doing 
just  so  much  and  no  more  than  will  gain  their  pay.  Nothing  attaches 
them  to  their  toil,  because,  in  their  eyes,  nothing  elevates,  honours,  or 
glorifies  their  exertions — nothing  protects  them  from  the  temptation  of 
indolence,  and,  if  by  chance  they  find  the  means  of  living  occasionally 
in  idleness,  by  degrees  they  yield  to  the  habits  of  indolence  and  de- 
bauchery ;  and  sometimes  the  worst  passions  gain  supreme  control  over 
dispositions  originally  well  disposed,  honourable,  and  ductile,  for  want 


THE  CHARITY  OF  SAINTE-MARIB— FLORINE.  409 

of  some  just  and  protecting  superintendance,  which  should  have  sus- 
tained, encouraged,  and  recompensed  their  early,  honest,  and  labori- 
ous inclinations. 

#»**** 

We  will  now  follow  La  Mayeux,  who,  after  having  gone  to  seek 
for  work  from  the  person  who  usually  employed  her,  went  to  the  Rue 
de  Babyloue,  to  the  pavilion  occupied  by  Adrienne  de  Cardoville. 


CHAPTER  LIX, 


THE   CHARITY    OF    SA1NTE-MARIE — FLORINE. 

WHILST  the  Queen-Bacchanal  and  Couchc-tout-Nu  terminated 
the  most  joyous  period  of  their  existence  so  sorrowfully,  La  Mayeux 
reached  the  door  of  the  pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone. 

Before  she  rang,  the  young  work-girl  wiped  her  eyes  —  a  fresh 
trouble  had  befallen  her.  On  leaving  the  tavern  she  had  gone  to  the 
person  who  usually  employed  her ;  but  she  refused  her,  being  able,  as 
she  told  her,  to  get  her  work  made  up  in  the  prisons  where  women 
were  confined  at  a  saving  of  a  third  of  the  expense.  La  Mayeux, 
rather  than  lose  this  last  resource,  offered  to  submit  to  this  diminution; 
but  the  pieces  of  linen  had  been  already  given  out,  and  the  young 
workwoman  could  not  hope  for  employment  before  at  least  a  fortnight, 
even  though  she  had  assented  to  this  reduction  of  pay.  We  may 
imagine  the  poor  creature's  anguish,  for,  when  a  compulsory  cessation 
of  work  comes,  there  is  only  left  the  choice  of  begging,  dying  of 
hunger,  or  robbing. 

Her  visit  to  the  pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone  will  be  explained 
as  we  proceed. 

La  Mayeux  rang  timidly  at  the  small  gate,  and  a  few  moments 
afterwards  Florine  opened  the  door. 

The  waiting-maid  was  no  longer  attired  according  to  the  charm- 
ing taste  of  Adrienne,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was  dressed  with  an 
affectation  of  austere  simplicity.  She  wore  a  high  gown  of  dark 
colour,  sufficiently  full  to  conceal  the  graceful  elegance  of  her  form, 
her  bandeaux  of  jet  black  hair  were  hardly  visible  under  the  flat 
border  of  a  small  white  and  stiffly  starched  cap,  resembling  that  worn 
by  nuns :  but,  in  spite  of  this  plain  costume,  the  brown  and  pale  coun- 
tenance of  Florine  »till  looked  extremely  handsome. 

We  have  already  said  that  Florine,  placed  by  a  criminal  act  to 
absolute  dependence  on  Rodin  and  M.  d'Aigrigny,  had  up  to  this  time 
served  as  a  spy  on  Adrienne,  in  spite  of  the  marks  of  confidence  and 
kindness  with  which  her  young  mistress  treated  her.  Florine  was  not 
utterly  perverted,  and  consequently  often  experienced  painful,  but  vain 
feelings  of  remorse,  when  she  reflected  upon  the  shameful  system  on 
which  she  was  acting  towards  Adrienne  de  Cardoville. 

At  the  sight  of  La  Mayeux,  whom  she  recognised,  Florine,  who 
had  told  her  the  night  before  of  Agricola's  arrest,  and  the  sudden  fit  of 


410  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

madness  which  had  come  over  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  receded  a 
t«  ]>,  so  much  was  she  struck  with  interest  and  pity  on  seeing  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  poor  work-girl.  The  information  of  the  forced  cessation 
of  work,  in  the  midst  of  such  painful  circumstances,  was  a  terrible  blow 
for  the  poor  needle-woman  ;  the  traces  of  recent  tears  left  their  furrows 
in  her  cheeks,  her  features  expressed  unwittingly  a  deep  anguish,  and 
she  appeared  so  exhausted,  so  weak,  so  overcome,  that  Florine  went  up 
to  her  hastily,  offered  her  arm,  and  said  to  her  kindly,  whilst  she  was 
supporting  her, — 

"  Come  in,  mademoiselle,  come  in.  Rest  yourself  for  awhile,  for 
you  are  very  pale,  and  appear  to  be  suffering  greatly  from  fatigue." 

Saying  this,  Florine  led  La  Mayeux  into  a  small  room  with  a  fire- 
place, and  seated  her  before  a  blazing  fire  in  a  carpeted  chair. 

Georgette  and  Hebe  had  been  dismissed,  and  Florine  alone  was  left 
in  charge  of  the  pavilion. 

When  La  Mayeux  was  seated,  Florine  said  to  her,  with  interest, — 

"  Mademoiselle,  may  I  offer  you  any  thing? — a  little  sugared  water, 
warm,  with  some  orange-flower  water  in  it  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  mademoiselle,"  said  La  Mayeux  with 
emotion  ;  for  the  least  token  of  kindness  filled  her  with  gratitude,  and 
she  saw  with  some  surprise  that  her  poor  garments  did  not  occasion 
either  constraint  or  disgust  in  Florine. 

"  I  only  want  a  little  rest,  for  I  have  walked  a  long  way,"  she 
replied, <;  if  you  will  allow  me  ?" 

"  Rest  as  long  as  you  please,  mademoiselle ;  I  am  alone  in  the 
pavilion  since  the  departure  of  my  poor  mistress."  (Here  Florine 
blushed  and  sighed.)  "  So  do  not  hurry  yourself  at  all,  but  come  near 
the  fire,  I  beg  of  you.  Stay — place  yourself  there,  you  will  be  warmer. 
Dear  me,  how  wet  your  feet  are  I  Put  them  on  this  stool." 

The  kind  reception  of  Florine,  her  handsome  face,  and  her  complaisant 
manner,  which  were  not  those  of  an  ordinary  waiting-maid,  struck  La 
Mayeux  greatly,  who  was  more  sensible  than  any  one  else,  in  spite  of 
her  humble  station,  of  all  that  was  kind,  gracious,  delicate,  and 
distingue  ;  and,  yielding  to  this  attraction,  the  young  work-girl,  usually 
so  retiring,  sensitive,  and  timid,  felt  herself  almost  inclined  to  treat 
Florine  with  confidence. 

"  How  very  kind  you  are,  mademoiselle,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of 
gratitude ;  "  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  your  kind  attentions  to  me  I" 

"  I  assure  you,  mademoiselle,  I  should  be  delighted  to  do  more 
than  mere  words,  and  offering  you  a  place  by  the  fire — you  are  so 
gentle,  and  interest  me  so  much  !" 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  how  nice  it  is  to  warm  one's  self  at  a  good 
fire  1 "  said  La  Mayeux,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart.  Then,  fearing 
(such  was  her  delicacy)  that  she  should  bo  thought  guilty  of  an  abuse 
of  hospitality  in  lengthening  her  visit,  she  added, — 

"  I  will  tell  you,  mademoiselle,  why  I  return  here :  yesterday  you 
told  me  that  a  young  smith,  M.  Agricola  Baudoin,  had  been  arrested 
in  this  pavilion." 

"  Alas,  mademoiselle,  yes ;  and  at  the  very  moment,  too,  when  my 
poor  mistress  was  about  to  give  him  the  assistance  he  required  1" 

"  M.  Agricola — I  am  his  adopted  sister,"  resumed  La  Mayeux, 
slightly  blushing — "wrote  to  me  last  night  from  his  prison,  and  begged 


-:-. 

- 


H.OIUNfc     AND    LA     MAYEl X. 

r.  410. 


London:   Oi.iniiinn  and  Ihill 


THE  CHARITY  OF  SAINTB- MARIE— FLORINB.  411 

me  to  tell  his  father  to  come  here  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and  inform 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  that  he,  Agricola,  had  some  very  import- 
ant particulars  to  communicate  to  the  young  lady,  or  to  such  person 
as  she  might  please  to  send  ;  but  that  he  did  not  dare  to  trust  them  in 
a  letter,  not  knowing  if  the  correspondence  of  the  prisoners  was  read 
by  the  director  of  the  prison." 

"  What !  and  M.  Agricola  wished  to  make  an  important  disclosure 
to  my  mistress  ?  "  said  Florine,  much  surprised. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle ;  for  up  to  this  time  Agricola  is  ignorant  of 
the  frightful  malady  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville." 

"  True ;  and  this  attack  of  insanity  came  on  so  suddenly,"  said 
Florine,  lowering  her  eyes,  "  that  it  was  impossible  to  have  antici- 
pated it." 

"  It  must  have  been  so,  indeed,"  said  La  Mayeux  ;  "  for,  when 
Agricola  saw  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  for  the  first  time,  he 
returned  struck  with  her  grace,  kindness,  and  delicacy." 

"  Like  every  body  else  who  approached  my  mistress,"  said  Florine, 
sorrowfully. 

"  This  morning,"  resumed  La  Mayeux,  "  after  having  had  the  letter 
of  Agricola,  I  went  to  his  father :  he  had  already  left  home,  for  he  is 
full  of  the  deepest  anxiety  ;  but  the  letter  of  my  adopted  brother 
appeared  to  me  so  pressing,  and  of  such  vast  importance  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville,  who  had  acted  so  generously  towards  him,  that 
I  came  myself." 

"  Unfortunately,  my  young  lady  is  no  longer  here,  as  you  know." 

"  But  are  there  none  of  her  family,  to  whom,  if  I  cannot  speak,  I 
can  at  least  make  known  through  you,  mademoiselle,  that  Agricola  is 
anxious  to  communicate  something  of  the  utmost  importance  to  this 
young  lady  ?  " 

"  It  is  strange  I "  replied  Florine,  reflecting,  and  without  making 
any  answer  to  La  Mayeux ;  and  then,  turning  towards  her,  she  said, — . 

"  And  you  are  completely  ignorant  of  the  subject  of  this  dis- 
closure ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  mademoiselle ;  but  I  know  Agricola,  and  he  is  honour 
and  honesty  itself:  he  has  a  mind  just  and  upright,  and  he  might  be 
believed  in  all  and  any  thing  he  said.  Besides,  what  interest  can  he 
have  in " 

"  Heavens  ! "  exclaimed  Florine,  hastily,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
light,  and  interrupting  La  Mayeux,  "  I  remember  now :  when  he  was 
apprehended  in  a  concealed  place,  in  which  mademoiselle  had  had  him 
placed,  I  chanced  to  be  present,  and  M.  Agricola  said  to  me,  in  a 
quick  and  low  voice, — 

*' '  Pray  say  to  your  generous  mistress  that  her  kindness  to  me 
will  have  its  reward,  and  my  concealment  in  this  secret  closet  may 
perhaps  not  have  been  without  its  utility.' 

"  That  was  all  he  could  say,  for  they  took  him  off  instantly.  I 
confess  that  in  these  words  I  had  but  remarked  the  expression  of  his 
gratitude,  and  the  hope  of  proving  it  one  day  to  mademoiselle ;  but 
when  I  unite  those  words  to  the  letter  which  he  has  written  to  you," 
said  Florine,  in  a  reflecting  tone 

"  Why,  then,"  interposed  La  Mayeux,  "  there  is  certainly  some 
connexion  between  his  concealment  in  the  secret  closet  and  the  im- 


412  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

portant  revelations  which  he  desires  to  make  to  your  lady  or  some  one 
of  her  family." 

"  The  secret  place  had  not  been  inhabited  or  entered  for  a  long 
time,"  said  Florine,  with  a  thoughtful  air :  "  perhaps  M.  Agricola  found 
or  saw  something  there  which  might  be  of  importance  to  my  young 
lady." 

"If  Agricola's  letter  had  not  seemed  to  me  so  pressing,"  said  La 
Mayeux,  "  I  should  not  have  come,  and  he  would  have  presented 
himself  here  on  quitting  his  prison,  which  now,  thanks  to  the  gene- 
rosity of  one  of  his  old  companions,  will  not  be  long ;  but  not  knowing 
if,  even  after  the  caution  is  deposited,  they  would  set  him  at  liberty 
to-day,  I  was  very  anxious  to  fulfil  his  request,  as  far  as  was  in  my 
power.  The  generous  kindness  of  your  mistress  made  it  a  duty  in 
me  to  do  so." 

Like  all  persons  in  whom  good  instincts  develope  themselves  at 
times,  Florine  experienced  a  sort  of  consolation  in  doing  good,  when 
she  could  do  so  with  impunity,  that  is  to  say,  without  exposing  her- 
self to  the  inexorable  resentment  of  those  on  whom  she  depended. 

Thanks  to  La  Mayeux,  an  occasion  offered  on  which  she  might 
probably  render  her  mistress  an  important  service  ;  and,  knowing  suffi- 
cient of  the  hatred  of  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier  for  her  niece  to  be 
certain  of  the  danger  which  Agricola's  disclosure  might  produce,  im- 
portant as  it  was,  if  made  to  any  one  but  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville 
herself,  Florine  said  to  La  Mayeux,  in  a  serious  and  emphatic  tone, — 

"  Listen,  mademoiselle,  whilst  I  give  you  what  I  believe  to  be 
most  serviceable  advice,  with  respect  to  my  poor  lady ;  but  this  step, 
on  my  part,  may  have  very  serious  consequences  for  me,  if  you  do  not 
attend  to  my  recommendation." 

"  How,  mademoiselle  ?  "  said  La  Mayeux,  looking  at  Florine  with 
extreme  surprise. 

"  Looking  to  my  mistress's  interest,  M.  Agricola  ought  not  to  tell 
any  one  but  herself  the  important  matters  which  he  is  desirous  of  com- 
municating." 

"  But,  unable  to  see  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,  why  should  he  not 
address  himself  to  her  family  ?  " 

"  Above  all  things,  he  must  be  silent  to  my  mistress's  family  on 
the  subject.  Mademoiselle  Adrienne  may  recover,  and  then  M.  Agrieola 
can  speak  to  herself;  and,  if  she  never  gets  better,  tell  your  adopted 
brother  that  it  is  still  better  that  he  should  preserve  the  secret  than 
see  it  serve  the  enemies  of  my  young  lady,  which,  be  assured,  would 
most  certainly  happen." 

"  I  understand  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  La  Mayeux,  sorrowfully  ; 
"  the  family  of  your  generous  mistress  do  not  love  her — persecute  her, 
perhaps  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  answer  you  a  word  on  that  subject ;  but  now,  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  I  entreat  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will  exact  from 
M.  Agricola  that  he  will  not  say  one  word  to  any  person  of  the  step 
you  have  taken  in  coming  to  me  on  this  subject,  and  the  advice  I  have 
given  you  ;  the  happiness — no,  not  the  happiness,"  said  Florine,  with 
bitterness,  as  if  she  had  long  since  renounced  all  hope  of  being  happy 
— "  not  the  happiness,  but  the  repose  of  my  life  depends  on  your  dis- 
cretion, ! " 


THE  CHARITY  OF  SAINTE-MAR1E — FLORINE.  413 

"  Ob,  make  yourself  perfectly  easy,"  said  La  Mayeux,  as  much 
affected  as  astonished  at  the  painful  expression  of  Florine's  features, 
"  I  will  never  be  ungrateful ;  no  one  but  Agricola  shall  ever  know  that 
I  have  seen  you." 

"  Thanks,  oh,  thanks,  mademoiselle  !  "  said  Florine  with  warmth. 

"  You  thank  me?"  said  La  Mayeux,  astonished  at  seeing  the  big 
tears  coursing  down  Florine's  face. 

"  Yes,  I  owe  you  a  moment  of  happiness,  pure  and  unmixed  ;  for, 
perhaps,  I  may  render  my  dear  mistress  a  service  without  the  risk  of 
increasing  the  troubles  which  already  overwhelm  me  !  " 

"  You  unhappy  ?" 

"  Does  that  surprise  you  ?  Oh,  believe  me,  whatever  may  be 
your  destiny,  I  would  exchange  it  with  mine  I "  exclaimed  Florine, 
almost  involuntarily. 

"  Alas,  mademoiselle,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  you  appear  to  have 
too  kind  a  heart  for  me  to  allow  you  to  form  such  a  wish,  particularly 
to-day " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  sincerely  hope,  for  your  sake,  mademoiselle,"  replied  La 
Mayeux,  with  bitterness,  "  that  you  may  never  know  how  frightful  it 
is  to  see  yourself  deprived  of  work,  when  work  is  your  only  resource!" 

"  And  arc  you  reduced  to  that  ? "  exclaimed  Florine,  looking 
anxiously  at  La  Mayeux. 

The  young  work-girl  bowed  down  her  head  and  made  no  reply. 
Her  extreme  pride  almost  reproached  her  for  this  confidence,  which 
seemed  like  a  complaint,  and  which  had  escaped  her  when  thinking  of 
the  horror  of  her  position. 

"  If  this  be  so,"  said  Florine,  "  I  pity  you  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart  ;  and  yet  I  do  not  know  if  my  misfortune  is  not  still  greater  than 
yours."  Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  Florine  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"  But,  now  I  think  of  it,  you  want  work  ;  if  you  are  at  your  wits'  end, 
I  think  I  can  procure  you  work." 

"  Is  it  possible,  mademoiselle  ?  "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux.  "  I  never 
should  have  dared  to  ask  you  for  such  a  service,  which  could,  however, 
save  me ;  but  now  your  generous  offer  almost  commands  my  full  con- 
fidence, and  'I  will  confess  to  you,  that  this  very  morning  they  have 
taken  from  me  my  very  humble  work,  though  it  only  brought  me  in 
four  francs  a-wcek." 

"  Four  francs  a-week  1 "  cried  Florine,  who  could  scarcely  credit 
what  she  heard. 

"  It  is  certainly  very  little,"  said  La  Mayeux ;  "  but  it  was  enough 
for  me.  Unfortunately,  the  person  who  employed  me  found  a  way  to 
have  the  work  done  for  a  still  less  price." 

"  Four  francs  a-week ! "  repeated  Florine,  deeply  moved  at  so  much 
misery  and  so  much  resignation.  "  Well,  well,  I  will  introduce  you 
to  some  persons  who  will  assure  you  the  earning  of  at  least  two  francs 
a-day." 

"  Is  it  possible  I  could  earn  two  francs  a-day  ?  " 

"  You  could  indeed, — only  you  would  be  obliged  to  go  and  work 
by  the  day,  unless,  indeed,  you  preferred  living  entirely  in  the  house." 

"  In  my  situation,"  said  La  Mayeux,  with  a  timid  pride,  "  I 
know  one  Las  uo  right  to  be  guided  by  what  we  like  or  dislike  ;  still  I 


414  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

should  greatly  prefer  working  by  the  day,  even  though  I  gained  less, 
if  I  might  be  allowed  to  take  the  work  home  with  me." 

"  Unfortunately,"  answered  Florine,  "  the  performing  your  work 
at  the  place  itself  is  indispensable." 

"  Then,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  timidly,  "  I  must  abandon  the  idea 
of  profiting  by  your  goodness.  Not  that  I  refuse  to  work  daily  at  the 
house  of  my  employer,  for  one  must  live ;  but  workwomen  are  ex- 
pected to  be  dressed  creditably,  if  not  smartly  ;  and  I  confess  to  you 
without  any  shame — for  mine  is  an  honest  poverty — that  it  is  entirely 
out  of  my  power  to  be  at  all  better  dressed  than  I  am  at  present." 

"  Do  not  let  that  be  any  objection,"  cried  Florine,  eagerly; 
"  means  will  be  found  to  provide  you  with  suitable  attire." 

La  Mayeux  regarded  Florine  with  increasing  surprise,  such  offers 
were  so  entirely  above  her  utmost  hopes,  and  the  pay  proposed  so 
greatly  exceeding  the  earnings  of  any  needle-woman  she  had  ever  heard 
of,  that  she  could  scarcely  credit  her  senses. 

"  But,"  replied  she,  after  some  hesitation,  "  may  I  venture  to  ask 
how  I  can  ever  have  deserved  such  generosity  ?  What  motive  can 
any  one  have  for  bestowing  such  favours  on  a  poor  girl  like  me  ?  " 

Florine  started  suddenly,  the  impulse  of  a  naturally  good  and  feel- 
ing heart,  conjoined  with  a  sincere  desire  to  serve  La  Mayeux,  whose 
gentleness  and  resignation  to  her  hard  lot  deeply  affected  Florine,  had 
led  her  on  to  make  a  somewhat  thoughtless  proposal.  She  well  knew 
the  price  the  poor  La  Mayeux  must  pay  for  the  services  so  freely  pro- 
mised her ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  she  asked  herself,  whether  it 
was  probable  the  young  sempstress  would  accept  them  upon  the  terms 
which  would  be  affixed  to  them  ?  Unfortunately,  Florine  had  gone  too 
far  to  recede:  yet  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  confess  to  La  Mayeux 
all  that  yet  remained  to  be  told  touching  this  tempting  offer :  she, 
therefore,  determined  to  leave  its  further  developement  to  others,  and 
to  permit  the  scruples  of  La  Mayeux  to  interfere  or  not,  as  it  might 
happen,  with  her  undertaking  the  conditions  imposed,  believing,  like 
many  who  have  yielded  to  temptation,  that  others  might  be  as  vulnera- 
ble as  herself.  Florine  could  not  help  fancying  that,  in  La  Mayeux's 
distressed  situation,  it  was  more  than  possible  neither  her  delicacy  nor 
scruples  would  stand  in  the  way  of  her  acceding  to  all  required  of  her. 
She  therefore  resumed :  "  I  can  well  understand  your  being  sur- 
prised at  offers  of  pay  so  much  beyond  what  you  have  hitherto  gained ; 
but  I  ought  to  explain  to  you,  that  what  I  have  been  saying  refers  to 
a  charitable  institution,  established  for  the  purpose  of  finding  work  or 
occupation  for  deserving  though  distressed  females,  and  undertakes  to 
place  them,  either  as  servants  in  families,  or  to  supply  them  with  daily 
needlework  at  the  institution,  which  is  called  Sainte-Marie's  Charity. 
Now  this  charity  is  conducted  by  persons  so  truly  benevolent,  that 
they  even  provide  a  sort  of  outfit  for  the  females  they  take  under  their 
protection,  when  it  happens .  that  they  themselves  do  not  possess  the 
means  of  appearing  respectable  at  their  work,  or  taking  a  suitable  sup- 
ply of  clothes  with  them  when  they  enter  a  service." 

This  plausible  explanation  of  the  very  magnificent  offers  Florine 
had  made  abundantly  satisfied  La  Mayeux,  who,  indeed,  saw. nothing 
uncommon  in  a  species  of  benevolent  charity  her  own  gentle  mind 
fully  responded  to. 


THE  CHARITY  OF  SA1NTE-MARIE FLOR1NE.  415 

"  Ah,  now,  indeed,  I  can  quite  comprehend  why  these  kind 
persons  give  so  high  a  price  as  that  you  were  speaking  of!" 
cried  La  Mayeux ;  '*  there  is  one  difficulty,  I  tear,  in  the  way  of 
obtaining  the  kind  assistance  of  these  charitable  individuals,  and  that 
is,  my  being  wholly  unprovided  with  any  recommendations  to  their 
notice  or  patronage." 

"  Nay,"  said  Florine,  "  your  being  honest,  industrious,  and  dis- 
tressed, will  be  all  the  recommendations  you  will  require.  There  is 
only  one  thing  I  must  prepare  you  for :  you  will  be  questioned  as  to 
the  strictness  with  which  you  perform  all  your  religious  duties." 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  no  one  in  the  world  loves  or  worships  God 
more  truly  than  myself,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  with  gentle  firmness  ; 
"  but  the  practice  of  certain  religious  duties  is  a  matter  of  conscience ; 
and,  though  I  should  deeply  regret  losing  the  opportunity  you  have 
held  out  to  me,  yet  I  certainly  could  not  avail  myself  of  it,  if  any 
thing  of  this  kind  were  required." 

"  Not  the  slightest,  I  assure  you ;  but,  as  the  charity  in  question  is 
directed  by  extremely  pious  persons,  I  only  meant  to  say,  you  must  not 
feel  astonished  at  their  questioning  you  on  this  head:  —  besides,  try  it. 
You  need  only  try,  you  can  incur  no  risk :  if  the  conditions  they  pro- 
pose to  you  suit,  you  can  accept  them ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  they  offend 
your  liberty  of  conscience,  why  it  will  be  at  your  pleasure  to  refuse 
them.  Your  position  cannot  be  rendered  worse  by  having  an  oppor- 
tunity of  judging,  and  it  may  be  made  much  better." 

It  was  impossible  to  make  any  objection  to  reasoning  so  clear  and 
convincing,  and,  with  the  consciousness  of  having  full  powers  to  choose 
or  reject,  La  Mayeux  dismissed  all  mistrust  and  doubt;  she,  therefore 
added, — 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,  I  most  gratefully  accept  your  offer,  and 
thank  you  for  it  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  But  who  Mill  intro- 
duce me  ?  " 

"  I  will.     To-morrow,  if  you  like." 

"  But,  then,  these  charitable  persons  will,  I  suppose,  wish  to  make 
some  inquiries  respecting  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.  The  holy  mother  Sainte-Perpetue,  superior  of  the 
convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  where  the  charity  is  established,  will,  in  all 
probability,  be  satisfied  with  seeing  you  and  hearing  your  own  account 
of  the  difficulty  you  axe  placed  in,  and  will  not  wish  for.  any  further 
recommendation ;  but,  even  if  otherwise,  she  will  but  have  to  say  so, 
and  you  can  very  easily  satisfy  her.  So  now,  then,  it  is  agreed,  is  it 
not?  To-morrow,  then." 

"  Shall  I  call  here  for  you,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  No ;  because,  as  I  told  you,  we  must  not  let  any  one  know  of 
your  having  been  here  from  M.  Agricola ;  and,  were  you  to  repeat  your 
visit,  it  would  excite  suspicion,  and,  perhaps,  bring  the  whole  affair  to 
light.  I  will  come  with  a  coach  and  fetch  you.  Where  do  you 
live?" 

"  In  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  No.  13 ;  and,  since  you  arc  kind  enough 
to  take  so  much  trouble,  mademoiselle,  all  you  need  do  on  arriving 
will  be  to  ask  the  dyer,  who  acts  as  porter  to  the  house,  to  come  and 
call  me,  to  let  La  Mayeux  know  you  are  there." 

••  La  Mayeux ! "  exclaimed  I'luriuc,  with  unfeigned  surprise. 


416  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  poor  girl,  with  a  mournful  smile, 
"  that  is  a  nickname  every  body  calls  me  by ;  and  it  was  because  of 
my  unfortunate  figure  and  infirmity,"  continued  La  Mayeux,  unable 
to  prevent  a  large  tear  trickling  slowly  down  her  pale  cheek,  "  which 
obtained  for  me  this  name,  that  I  wished  to  avoid  doing  my  work  any 
where  but  at  home.  There  are  many  who  can  bear  to  joke  at  such 
things  as  bodily  deformity  without  recollecting  how  cruelly  it  wounds 
the  object  of  their  mirth ;  but,"  added  La  Mayeux,  wiping  away  the 
tears  with  which  her  eyes  were  filled  with  her  long  thin  fingers,  "  it  is 
not  for  me  to  choose  what  I  will  do ;  and,  therefore,  I  submit." 

Deeply  affected  at  this  unpretending  forgetfulness  of  self  and  un- 
feigned humility,  Florine  took  La  Mayeux's  hand,  saying, — 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself  by  thinking  of  such  things ;  there  arc 
some  misfortunes  far  more  calculated  to  inspire  compassion  and  tender- 
ness than  derision.  Then  you  do  not  wish  me  to  ask  for  you  by  your 
real  name  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  you  please.  I  am  called  Madeleine  Soliveau  ;  but  I 
must  again  remind  you,  mademoiselle,  that  I  am  but  very  little  known 
by  any  other  name  than  La  Mayeux." 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow,  about  twelve  o'clock,  I  will  be  in  the  Rue 
Brise-Miche." 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle,  how  can  I  ever  repay  your  kindness  ?  " 

"  Do  not  mention  repaying  me.  Be  assured  my  greatest  desire  is, 
that  what  I  am  proposing  may  prove  serviceable  to  you,  of  which  you 
alone  can  judge  after  to-morrow's  interview.  As  for  M.  Agricola,  do  not 
reply  to  his  letter;  but  wait  till  he  gets  out  of  prison,  and  then,  let  me 
repeat,  tell  him  he  must  on  no  account  divulge  one  syllabic  of  what  he 
knows  until  he  can  see  my  dear  mistress." 

"  Where  is  this  poor  young  lady  at  present  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know !  I  am  ignorant  where  she  was  taken  to  when 
her  madness  first  declared  itself.  Then  expect  me  to-morrow  without 
fail." 

"  Thank  you  a  thousand  times,"  said  La  Mayeux. 

The  reader  has  not  forgotten,  in  all  probability,  that  the  convent 
of  Sainte-Marie,  whither  Florine  had  promised  to  conduct  La  Mayeux, 
Was  also  the  spot  where  the  daughters  of  General  Simon  were  confined, 
and  closely  adjoined  the  madhouse  of  Doctor  Baleinier,  to  which 
Adrienne  de  Cardoville  had  been  taken,  and  was  then  kept  prisoner. 


CHAPTER   LX. 


THE  ABBESS 


THE  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  whither  the  daughters  of  Marshal 
Simon  had  been  conducted,  was  an  ancient  and  vast  hotel,  the  exten- 
sive gardens  of  which  abutted  on  the  Boulevard  de  1'Hopital,  at  this 
time  one  of  the  most  deserted  parts  of  Paris. 


THE  ABBESS  SAINTE-PERl>£TUE.  41? 

The  scenes  which  now  follow  took  place  on  the  12th  of  February, 
the  eve  of  the  fatal  day  on  which  the  members  of  the  Rcnnepont  family, 
the  la.it  descendants  of  the  sister  of  the  Wandering  Jew  were  to 
assemble  in  the  Rue  Saint-Francoise. 

The  convent  of  Sainte-Marie  was  governed  with  the  strictest 
regularity.  A  superior  council,  composed  of  influential  ecclesiastics, 
presided  over  by  the  Father  d'Aigrigny,  and  females  of  deep  piety,  at 
the  head  of  which  was  the  Princess  de  Suint-Dizier,  frequently 
assembled  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  as  to  the  best  means  of  extend- 
ing and  confirming  the  occult  and  vast  influence  of  this  establishment, 
which  was  making  remarkable  advances. 

Skilful  combination,  very  sagaciously  planned,  had  presided  over 
the  institution  of  the  Charity  of  Sainte-Marie,  which,  aided  by 
numerous  donations,  possessed  very  large  estates,  and  other  riches, 
which  were  daily  accumulating. 

The  religious  community  was  but  a  pretext;  but,  thanks  to  number- 
less ramifications  with  the  provinces,  and  the  intervention  of  the 
highest  members  of  the  ultramontane  party,  a  considerable  number  of 
richly  endowed  orphans  were  sent  to  this  establishment,  who  were 
there  to  receive  a  solid,  serious,  pious  education  ;  much  preferable,  as 
they  asserted,  to  the  frivolous  bringing  up  which  they  would  have  in 
fashionable  boarding-schools  infected  with  the  corruptions  of  the  age. 
To  widows  and  lone  females,  who  were  wealthy,  the  Charity  of  Sainte- 
Marie  offered  a  secure  asylum  against  the  dangers  and  temptations  of 
the  world.  In  this  peaceable  retreat  they  would  enjoy  a  heavenly 
calm,  and,  whilst  they  consulted  their  eternal  salvation,  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  tenderest  and  most  affectionate  care. 

This  was  not  all ;  the  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue,  the  superior  of  the 
convent,  undertook  also  in  the  name  of  the  charity  to  procure  for  the 
truly  faithful,  who  were  desirous  of  preserving  the  interior  of  their 
houses  from  the  corruptions  of  the  age,  either  companions  for  solitary 
or  aged  females,  or  servants  for  households,  or  workwomen  by  the 
day,  all  being  persons  whose  pious  morality  \vas  guaranteed  by  the 
charity. 

Nothing  could  appear  more  worthy  of  interest,  sympathy,  and 
encouragement,  than  such  an  establishment;  but  we  shall  anon  unveil 
the  capacious  and  dangerous  net  of  intrigues  of  all  sorts  that  covered 
these  charitable  and  holy  appearances. 

The  superior  of  the  convent,  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue,  was  a  tall 
woman,  about  forty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  woollen  gown  of  car- 
melite  colour,  and  having  a  long  rosary  at  her  girdle;  a  white  cap,  tied 
under  the  chin,  and  a  black  veil,  confined  her  lean  and  pale  coun- 
tenance ;  a  vast  quantity  of  deep  and  intersecting  wrinkles  furrowed 
her  forehead,  of  the  colour  of  yellow  ivory  ;  her  sharp  and  projecting 
nose  was  curved  slightly  like  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey  ;  her  black 
eye,  sagacious  and  piercing,  combined  to  complete  a  physiognomy 
intelligent,  calm,  and  firm. 

As  regarded  her  ability  and  management  of  the  tangible  interests  of 
the  community,  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue  was  equal  to  the  most  skilful 
and  wily  lawyer.  When  women  are  gifted  with  what  is  called  a  mind 
for  business,  and  will  apply  their  depth  of  penetration,  indefatigable 
perseverance,  prudent  dissimulation,  and,  above  all,  that  correctness 

L>7  EE 


418  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  quickness  of  perception  so  natural  to  them,  they  attain  prodigious 
results. 

As  to  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue,  to  her  strong  and  powerful  brain 
the  vast  responsibility  of  the  community  was  but  child's  play.  No 
one  knew  better  than  she  how  to  purchase  depreciated  properties, 
restore  them  to  their  worth,  and  sell  them  again  advantageously : 
the  variations  of  the  funds,  exchange,  the  current  value  of  shares  in 
different  undertakings,  were  perfectly  familiar  to  her.  She  had  never 
instructed  her  agents  to  meddle  in  a  doubtful  affair,  when  investment 
was  required  for  the  sums  which  pious  souls  daily  bestowed  in  alms  on 
the  Charity  of  Sainte-Marie.  She  had  established  in  the  house  order, 
discipline,  and  above  all,  an  extreme  economy  ;  the  constant  end  and 
aim  of  her  efforts  being  to  enrich,  not  herself,  but  the  community 
which  she  ruled  ;  for  the  spirit  of  association,  when  directed  to  the 
purposes  of  collective  egotism,  gives  to  bodies  the  faults  and  vices  of  an 
individual. 

Thus  a  body  will  love  power  and  money,  as  an  ambitious  man 
loves  power  for  the  sake  of  power,  as  the  avaricious  man  loves  money 
for  the  sake  of  money.  But  it  is  always  on  the  subject  of  real  property 
that  congregations  act  like  individuals.  Real  property  is  their  dream, 
their  fixed  idea,  their  fructifying  monomania,  and  they  pursue  their 
object  with  most  earnest,  tender,  and  indefatigable  zeal. 

The  first  acquisition  of  real  property  is  to  a  poor  and  small  rising 
community  what  her  wedding  presents  are  to  a  young  bride — his  first 
horse  to  a  young  man — his  first  success  to  a  poet — her  first  Cachmere 
shawl  to  a  dressmaker's  girl :  and  after  all,  in  this  material  age,  a  fixed 
piece  of  property  makes  a  community  known  and  appreciated  as  sub- 
stantial to  a  certain  extent  in  the  religious  Exchange,  and  gives  it  the 
more  influence  over  the  simple-minded,  inasmuch  as  all  these  associa- 
tions for  assumed  charitable  purposes,  which  end  by  acquiring  immense 
possessions,  commence  invariably  with  an  air  of  modest  poverty  as  its 
social  introduction,  and  charity  to  its  neighbour  as  its  guarantee  and 
ostensible  object. 

Thus  it  is  hardly  to  be  credited  how  much  fierce  and  bitter  rivalry 
these  arises  between  different  congregations  of  men  and  women,  on  the 
subject  of  the  actual  property  which  each  can  acquire,  and  with  what 
ineffable  complacency  -an  opulent  congregation  will  crush,  under  the 
inventory  of  its  own  houses,  farms,  investments,  a  poorer  congregation. 

Envy,  jealous  hatred,  rendered  still  more  fierce  by  the  indolence  of 
the  cloister,  produce  these  comparisons ;  and  yet  nothing  can  be  less 
Christian,  in  the  heavenly  acceptation  of  this  Divine  word,  nothing  can 
be  less  in  unison  with  the  real  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  a  spirit  so  essentially 
and  religiously  inculcating  community,  than  this  violent  and  insatiable 
ardour  for  acquiring  and  monopolising  by  every  possible  mode :  a 
dangerous  passion,  and.  far  from  excusable  in  the  eyes  of  public 
opinion,  through  the  miserable  almsgiving,  which  is  presided  over  by 
an  inexorable  spirit  of  exclusion  and  intolerance. 

Mother  Sainte-Perpetue  was  seated  before  a  large  bureau,  with 
falling  flap,  placed  in  the  centre  of  a  small  apartment,  plainly,  but  very 
comfortably  furnished.  An  excellent  fire  burnt  in  the  marble-fronted 
fireplace,  and  a  soft  carpet  covered  the  floor. 

The  superior,  who   every  day   had   brought  to  her  all  letters, 


THE  ABBESS  SAINTE-PERP^TUE.  419 

addressed  either  to  the  sisters  or  the  boarders  of  the  convent,  was 
occupied  in  opening  the  letters  of  the  sisters,  according  to  right,  and 
in  unsealing  very  skilfully  the  letters  of  the  boarders,  according  to  a 
right  which  she  assumed  to  herself,  and  without  their  privity,  but,  be 
it  understood,  always  for  the  sole  benefit  of  the  dear  girls'  salvation, 
and  a  little  that  she  might  be  always  well  informed  of  their  correspond- 
ence, for  the  superior  took  upon  herself  also  the  duty  of  taking  cog- 
nisance of  all  the  letters,  which  were  written  from  the  convent,  before 
they  were  despatched  to  the  post-office. 

The  traces  of  this  pious  and  innocent  investigation  easily  disap- 
peared, for  the  holy  and  good  mother  possessed  a  complete  arsenal  of 
charming  little  steel  tools,  some  of  which,  very  pointed,  served  to  cut 
imperceptibly  the  paper  round  the  seal,  and  then  the  letter  opened  : 
read,  and  replaced  in  its  envelope,  she  took  another  pretty  little 
rounded  tool,  which,  being  lightly  warmed,  was  quickly  applied  about 
the  circumference  of  the  wax  of  the  seal,  and  which  thereby  slowly 
melted,  expanded  a  little,  and  covered  the  first  incision.  Then,  by  a 
sentiment  of  justice  and  benevolence  highly  praiseworthy,  there  was  in 
the  arsenal  of  the  good  mother  a  small  and  most  ingenious  fumigatory, 
to  the  moist  and  dissolving  vapour  of  which  were  submitted  the  letters 
modestly  and  humbly  closed  with  wafers,  which,  thus  moistened, 
yielded  to  the  slightest  effort,  and  without  the  smallest  tear. 

According  to  the  importance  of  the  indiscretions  in  which  the 
writers  of  these  letters  were  occasionally  detected,  the  superior  made 
notes,  more  or  less  special.  She  was  at  this  moment  in  her  interesting 
investigation,  when  two  knocks  gently  rapped  on  her  bolted  door. 

Mother  Sainte-Perpetue  instantly  lowered  the  large  semicircular 
flap  of  her  escritoire,  and  covered  her  arsenal,  and,  rising,  opened  the 
door  with  a  grave  and  solemn  air. 

A  lay  sister  came  in  and  announced  that  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier 
was  waiting  in  the  saloon,  and  that  Mademoiselle  Florine,  accompanied 
by  a  young  deformed  and  ill-chid  girl,  had  arrived  a  short  time  after 
the  princess,  and  were  waiting  at  the  door  of  the  little  corridor. 

"  Introduce  the  princess  first,"  said  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue. 

And  with  delightful  care  she  moved  an  arm-chair  towards  the  fire. 

Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  entered. 

Although  free  from  coquettish  or  juvenile  pretensions,  the  princess 
was  dressed  with  taste  and  elegance.  She  wore  a  black  velvet  hat  of 
fashionable  make,  a  large  blue  Cachmere  shawl,  a  black  satin  gown, 
trimmed  with  sable,  and  a  muff  of  the  same  fur. 

"  To  what  good  fortune  am  I,  to-day,  to  attribute  the  honour  of 
your  visit,  my  dear  daughter?"  said  the  superior,  graciously. 

"  On  a  most  important  matter,  my  dear  mother  ;  and  I  am  in  great 
haste,  for  his  eminence  is  waiting  for  me,  and  unfortunately  I  have  but 
a  few  minutes  to  spare.  My  business  concerns  the  two  orphan  girls, 
about  whom  we  had  so  long  a  conversation  yesterday." 

"  They  are  still  separated,  as  you  desired ;  and  the.  separation  has 
affected  them  so  much,  that  this  morning  I  have  been  obliged  to  send 
for  Doctor  Raleinier  at  his  Maison  de  Sante.  He  found  them  suffer- 
ing from  fever  and  extreme  depression ;  and,  remarkable  to  say,  the 
same  symptoms  precisely  developed  themselves  at  the  same  time  in 


420  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

both  sisters.  I  have  again  questioned  the  two  unhappy  creatures,  and 
1  have  been  amazed,  thunder-struck :  they  are  idolaters ! " 

"  The  greater  the  necessity  of  entrusting  them  to  you.  But  to 
the  subject  of  my  visit,  my  dear  mother :  we  have  learnt  the  unex- 
pected return  of  the  soldier  who  brought  these  young  girls  into  France, 
and  whom  we  believed  absent  for  several  days.  He  is,  however,  in 
Paris,  and,  in  spite  of  his  age,  is  a  bold  and  daring  man,  with  uncom- 
mon energy  of  purpose.  If  he  should  discover  that  the  young  girls 
are  here  (which,  fortunately,  is  all  but  impossible),  in  his  intense 
anxiety  to  have  them  under  the  protection  of  his  own  impious  influence, 
he  would  go  to  any  and  every  extremity.  Therefore,  from  this 
moment,  my  dear  mother,  redouble  your  vigilance,  that  no  one  be 
admitted  during  the  night :  this  quarter  is  so  lonely  I " 

"  Make  yourself  easy,  my  dear  daughter,  we  are  sufficiently  pro- 
tected. Our  porter  and  gardeners,  well  armed,  take  their  rounds  every 
night  on  the  side  of  the  Boulevard  de  1'Hopital ;  the  walls  are  high, 
and  thickly  studded  with  points  of  iron  in  the  parts  most  easy  of  access. 
But  still  I  thank  you,  my  dear  daughter,  for  having  thus  warned  me  : 
we  will  redouble  our  precautions." 

"  Especially  to-night,  my  dear  mother ! " 

"  And  why  to-night?" 

"  Because,  if  this  infernal  soldier  had  the  unheard-of  audacity  to 
attempt  any  thing,  he  would  do  s.o  this  night." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  that,  my  dear  daughter  ?  " 

"  Our  information  assures  us  of  it,"  replied  the  princess,  with  a 
slight  embarrassment,  which  did  not  escape  the  superior,  who  was, 
however,  too  self-possessed  and  cautious  to  appear  to  observe  it. 
She  had  her  suspicions,  however,  that  there  were  certain  things  con- 
cealed from  her. 

"To-night,  then,"  replied  Mother  Sainte - Perpetue,  "we  will 
redouble  our  vigilance.  But  since  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you, 
my  dear  daughter,  I  will  avail  myself  of  the  occasion  to  say  two  words 
as  to  the  marriage  in  question." 

"  Yes,  pray  do,  my  dear  mother!"  said  the  princess,  eagerly,  "for 
it  is  very  important.  The  young  Baron  de  Brisville  is  a  man  full  of 
ardent  devotion  in  this  time  of  revolutionary  impiety  :  he  takes  the 
sacrament  openly,  and  may  be  of  great  service  to  us  ;  he  is  a  member 
of  the  chamber,  and  has  the  ear  of  the  house,  and  is  not  deficient  in  a 
kind  of  aggressive  and  provoking  eloquence ;  and  I  know  of  no  one 
who  gives  to  his  assertions  a  more  dashing  air,  or  to  his  faith  a  more 
uncommon  attraction.  He  is  a  correct  calculator,  for  his  cavalier  and 
off-hand  manner  of  talking  of  religious  affairs  piques  and  excites  the 
curiosity  of  the  indifferent.  Fortunately,  circumstances  are  such,  that 
he  may  shew  a  bold  violence  against  our  opponents,  without  the  least 
danger;  and  that  redoubles  his  zeal  as  a  would-be  martyr.  In  a  word, 
he  is  with  us ;  and,  in  return,  this  marriage  is  his  due,  and  must  take 
place.  Besides,  you  know,  dear  mother,  that  he  intends  to  offer  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  the  Charity  of  Sainte-Marie  the  day  when 
he  comes  into  possession  of  Mademoiselle  Baudricourt's  fortune." 

"  I  never  had  the  slightest  doubt  of  M.  de  Brisville's  excellent 
intentions  on  the  subject  of  a  charity  which  claims  the  sympathy  of  all 


THE  ABBESS  SAINTE-PEHP&TUE.  421 

pious  persons,"  replied  the  superior,  discreetly ;  "  but  I  did  not  antici- 
pate so  many  obstacles  on  the  part  of  the  young  lady." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  This  young  lady,  whom  I  had  hitherto  believed  timidity,  sub- 
mission, subjection — let  me  use  the  full  phrase — idiotism  itself,  instead 
of  being,  as  I  expected,  overjoyed  at  this  proposition  of  marriage,  asks 
time  for  reflection." 

"  That's  annoying  ! " 

"  She  opposes  a  passive  resistance.  I  told  her  (but  in  vain)  with 
much  severity,  that,  being  destitute  of  parents,  friends,  and  confided 
absolutely  to  my  care,  she  ought  to  see  witli  my  eyes,  hear  with 
my  cars,  and,  when  I  assure  her  that  this  union  is  suitable  to  her  in 
every  respect,  that  she  ought  to  comply  without  the  slightest  objection 
or  reflection." 

"  Of  course  !  It  is  impossible  to  think  in  a  manner  more  proper 
and  sensible." 

"  She  replied  that  she  should  like  to  see  M.  de  Brisville,  and  know 
his  disposition  before  she  entered  into  any  engagement." 

"  How  very  ridiculous,  after  you  had  been  responsible  for  his 
morality,  and  thought  the  match  eligible  !" 

"  Well,  this  morning,  I  observed  to  Mademoiselle  Baudricourt 
that  up  to  this  time  I  had  not  used  towards  her  any  thing  but  mildness 
and  persuasion ;  but  that,  if  she  drove  me  to  it,  I  should  be  compelled, 
in  spite  of  myself,  and  for  her  sake,  to  act  with  severity,  in  order  to 
overcome  her  obstinacy ;  and  that  I  should  separate  her  from  her 
companions,  put  her  in  a  cell,  and  on  the  most  compulsory  system, 
until  she  resolved,  after  all,  to  be  happy,  and  marry  an  honourable 
man." 

"  Well,  after  these  threats,  my  dear  mother?" 

"  Well,  I  hope  they  will  have  a  good  effect.  She  had  in  her 
country  a  friend  with  whom  she  corresponded  :  I  suppressed  the  cor- 
respondence, as  I  thought  it  dangerous ;  and  now  she  is  \mdor  my  sole 
inHiietico,  and  I  hope  we  shall  arrive  at  our  wishod-for  end.  But  you 
see,  my  dear  daughter,  that  it  is  not  without  trouble  and  crosses  that 
we  can  attain  the  good  we  desire." 

"  I  am  sure  of  M.  de  Brisville,  and  will  answer  for  it,  if  he  marries 
Mademoiselle  Baudricourt,  that " 

"  You  know,  my  dear  daughter,"  said  the  superior,  interrupting  the 
princess,  "that  if  it  concerned  me  individually,  I  should  refuse;  but 
to  give  to  the  charity  is  to  givo  to  God,  and  I  cannot  prevent  M.  de 
Brisville  from  increasing  the  sum  of  his  own  good  works.  But  some- 
thing most  distressing  has  occurred  !" 

"  What  is  that,  my  dear  mother  ?  " 

"  The  Sucre  Cceur  disputes  with  us  and  overbids  us  in  the  purchase 
of  an  estate  every  way  advantageous  and  desirable  for  its  possessor. 
Some  persons  are  never  satisfied  !  However,  I  did  not  scruple  to  speak 
my  mind  very  sharply  and  severely  to  the  abbess  herself." 

"She  told  me  so,"  replied  Madame  de  Saint-Di/ior,  "but  attri- 
buted her  conduct  to  the  stern  necessity  of  practising  a  rigid  eco- 
nomy." 

"  What !  you  visit  her,  then,  do  you,  my  dear  daughter  ? "  de- 
manded the  superior,  with  the  most  undisguised  astonishment. 


422  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  I  met  her  lately  at  the  house  of  a  friend,"  replied  Madame  de 
Saint-Dizier,  with  a  slight  hesitation  in  her  manner,  which  the  holy 
Mother  Sainte-Perp6tue  appeared  not  to  notice,  but  merely  resumed 
the  subject  by  saying, — 

"  I  really  cannot  account  for  our  establishment  having  incurred 
the  jealousy  and  dislike  of  the  Sacre  Cceur,  as  it  appears  to  have  done. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  ill-natured  reports  it  has  spread  respecting 
the  '  Charity  of  Sainte-Marie  ;'  but  some  persons  are  always  chagrined 
and  annoyed  at  the  success  of  their  neighbours." 

"Well,  then,  dear  mother,"  said  the  princess,  in  a  conciliating 
tone,  "  let  us  hope  that  the  splendid  donation  you  will  receive  from 
M.  de  Brisville  may  serve  to  atone  for  the  vexations  you  have  expe- 
rienced from  the  superior  of  the  Sacre  Cceur.  This  marriage  would 
then  be  doubly  advantageous,  my  dear  mother ;  for  it  would  place  a 
large  fortune  in  the  hands  of  one  of  our  own  party,  who  would  employ 
it  as  it  ought  to  be  spent.  With  an  income  of  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  per  annum  the  power  of  our  new  ally  would  be  of  immense 
importance  ;  and  we  should  then  possess  an  organ  worthy  of  our  cause, 
and  be  no  longer  under  the  necessity  of  leaving  our  defence  in  the 
hands  of  such  men  as  this  M.  Dumoulin." 

"  There  is,  nevertheless,  much  force  and  power  in  his  writing : 
he  always  reminds  me  of  Saint-Bernard,  when  angrily  reproving  the 
impiety  of  the  age." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  mother,  if  you  only  knew  what  a  very  strange 
description  of  saint  M.  Dumoulin  would  make  I  I  could  tell  you — 
but  no,  I  will  not  sully  my  lips  or  offend  your  ears  :  all  I  can  say  is, 
that  such  defenders  as  he  is  would  peril  any  cause,  however  holy. 
Adieu,  then,  dear  and  holy  mother,  till  I  see  you  again  !  and  pray 
attend  to  my  request  touching  the  increase  of  every  precaution  against 
any  attempt  during  the  night  on  the  part  of  the  old  soldier  I  spoke  of. 
His  return  just  now  is  most  perplexing." 

"  Nay,  my  daughter,  be  under  no  alarm — I  will  carefully  attend 
to  your  wishes.  Oh,  I  forgot !  Mademoiselle  Florine  has  been  here  to 
beseech  a  favour  at  my  hands :  it  is  to  request  you  will  take  her  into 
your  service.  You  know  the  fidelity  with  which  she  obeyed  your 
orders  respecting  her  attendance  upon  your  unfortunate  niece.  Now 
it  seems  to  me  you  owe  her  some  little  recompense,  and  by  taking  her 
to  be  about  yourself  you  would  for  ever  bind  her  to  your  interests,  as 
well  as  very  greatly  oblige  and  serve  me,  who  feel  a  lively  interest  in 
the  young  person's  welfare." 

"  My  dear  mother,  since  you  are  interested  for  the  girl,  the  thing  is 
settled  at  once,  and  I  will  take  her  into  my  service  with  pleasure ;  and 
indeed,  now  I  think  of  it,  it  is  probable  she  may  be  of  more  utility  to 
me  than  I  at  first  thought  of." 

"A  thousand  thanks,  dear  daughter,  for  your  ready  compliance 
with  my  wishes  !  I  shall  soon  see  you  again,  I  trust.  We  shall  have 
a  long  conference,  at  two  o'clock  the  day  after  to-morrow,  with  his 
eminence  and  my  lord-marquis.  Do  not  forget  it  1 " 

"  Never  fear,  dear  mother :  rely  on  my  punctuality.  But  pray 
excuse  my  again  begging  you  to  redouble  every  ordinary  precaution 
to-night,  lest  a  great  scandal  arise  to  the  holy  establishment  over 
which  you  preside ! " 


THE  ABBESS  SAINTE-PERP^Tl'E.  423 

After  respectfully  kissing  the  superior's  hand,  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  went  out  by  a  large  door  leading  from  the  abbess's  small  private 
apartment  to  a  saloon  which  opened  upon  the  principal  staircase.  A 
few  seconds  had  elapsed  after  the  departure  of  the  princess,  when  a 
side -door  opened,  and  Florine  stood  before  the  abbess  of  Sainte- 
Marie.  The  superior  was  sitting,  and  Florine  approached  with  an  air 
of  timid  humility. 

"  Did  you  not  meet  the  Princess  de  Saint-Dizier?"  inquired  Sainte- 
Perpetue. 

"  No,  holy  mother,  I  was  waiting  in  the  gallery  whose  windows 
look  into  the  gardens." 

"  The  princess  takes  you  into  her  service  from  this  very  day,"  said 
the  superior. 

Involuntarily  a  movement  of  vexation  and  surprise  escaped  Florine 
as  she  hastily  said,  "  Me  !  holy  mother?  Nay,  I " 

"  I  requested  her  to  do  so  in  your  name  ;  and  you,  of  course, 
accept  the  permission,"  replied  the  superior,  in  an  imperious  tone. 

"  But,  holy  mother,  I  begged  of  you  not  to " 

"  I  have  said  that  you  accept  the  situation  offered  you  without  a 
word,"  persisted  the  superior,  in  a  voice  so  firm  and  positive,  that 
Florine,  incapable  of  any  further  resistance,  cast  down  her  eyes,  and 
said,  in  a  low  and  broken  voice, — 

"  I  accept  it,  if  it  must  be  so." 

"  I  order  you  to  do  so,  in  the  name  of  M.  Rodin." 

"  Alas,  I  thought  so,  holy  mother  I"  replied  Flprine,  mournfully. 
"  And  what  are  the  conditions  attached  to  my  entering  the  princess's 
service  ?  " 

"  Precisely  the  same  as  those  which  accompanied  your  employment 
with  her  niece." 

Florine  shuddered,  yet,  rallying  her  self-possession,  she  said, — 

"  Then  I  shall  be  required  to  make  frequent  secret  reports  con- 
cerning the  princess?" 

"  You  will  observe  all,  remember  all,  and  repeat  all  you  see  or 
hear." 

"  I  will  obey,  holy  mother." 

"  Your  first  care  will  be  to  take  particular  heed  of  every  visit  the 
princess  may  henceforward  receive  from  the  superior  of  the  Sacre  Cceur; 
you  must  carefully  note  down  every  thing  you  observe  during  such 
visits,  and  endeavour  to  glean  as  much  of  the  conversation  that  passes 
as  you  possibly  can  :  this  is  necessary  to  preserve  Madame  de  Saint- 
Dizier  from  dangerous  influences." 

"  Depend  upon  my  obedience,  holy  mother." 

"  Your  next  object  will  be  to  endeavour  to  find  out  the  reason 
why  two  young  orphan  girls  were  brought  hither  by  Madame  Grivois, 
the  princess's  confidential  attendant,  with  orders  to  treat  them  with  the 
utmost  severity." 

"  I  will  endeavour  to  do  so,  holy  mother." 

"  Added  to  which,  you  will  also  keep  a  close  and  accurate  account 
of  all  that  passes  on  every  subject  that  may  appear  to  you  to  be  of  the 
slightest  importance.  That  will  suffice  for  to-day  ;  to-morrow  I  shall 
have  some  very  particular  instructions  to  give  you  relative  to  another 
affair." 


424  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  I  understand  you,  holy  mother,  and  shall  attend  to  what  you 
have  said." 

"  If  I  find  you  faithfully  discharge  the  duties  appointed  you,  and 
conduct  yourself  satisfactorily  and  according  to  the  instructions  you 
have  received,  you  will,  ere  long,  quit  the  princess's  service,  to  become 
head-woman  to  a  young  and  newly  married  lady,  which  would  ensure 
you  an  excellent  and  permanent  situation,  upon  the  same  conditions  as 
those  now  required— you  understand?  And  now,  then,  it  is  under- 
stood— by  every  one,  if  you  please — that  you  enter  the  household  of 
Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  in  consequence  of  having  solicited  me  to  pro- 
cure that  favour  for  you." 

"  I  will  remember,  holy  mother,  and  speak  of  it  as  you  desire  me." 

"  Who  is  the  deformed  young  person  by  whom  you  are  accom- 
panied?" 

"  A  poor,  destitute  creature,  but  very  intelligent,  and  evidently 
above  the  condition  in  \vhich  she  is  placed.  She  is  a  plain  needle- 
woman ;  but,  work  having  failed  her,  she  is  reduced  to  the  utmost 
indigence.  I  made  the  strictest  inquiries  respecting  her  this  morning, 
when  I  went  to  fetch  her,  and  every  one  spoke  in  the  highest  terms  of 
her." 

"  She  is  plain  in  countenance,  and  deformed  in  figure,  I  under- 
stand ?  " 

"  Her  features,  though  plain,  are  very  interesting  and  expressive, 
but  she  is  much  deformed." 

It  appeared  to  fall  in  with  the  wishes,  or  views,  of  the  superior, 
that  the  person  thus  brought  before  her  notice  was  gentle,  unassuming, 
and  of  unprepossessing  exterior.  After  pausing  a  few  minutes,  as. 
though  reflecting  on  the  matter,  she  added, — 

"  Intelligent,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Very  much  so." 

"  And  absolutely  destitute  ?  " 

"Perfectly  unprovided  —  without  a  resource,  save  in  her  own 
i  ndustry." 

"  Is  she  pious?" 

"  She  does  not  attend  to  outward  forms." 

"That  matters  but  little,"  said  the  superior,  mentally,  "if she  be 
but  intelligent  and  clever;  that  will  answer  my  purpose."  Then, 
speaking  aloud,  she  said,  "  Can  you  answer  for  her  being  an  expert 
needle-woman  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can,  holy  mother." 

The  superior  rose,  went  to  a  book-case,  and  took  out  a  sort  of 
register,  or  list  of  various  names  and  departments  of  service,  and 
appeared  for  some  time  to  be  attentively  examining  its  contents;  then, 
replacing  the  book,  she  said, — 

"  Let  the  young  person  come  in,  and  do  you  await  me  in  the 
work-room." 

"  Deformed,  intelligent,  and  a  skilful  needle-woman,"  said  the 
superior,  thoughtfully,  "  she  would  excite  no  suspicions  —  we  must 
see " 

At  this  instant  Florine  returned  with  La  Mayeux,  whom  she  at 
once  introduced  to  the  superior,  and  then  withdrew,  in  obedience  to 
the  commands  she  had  received. 


THE  TEMPTATION.  425 

The  poor  sempstress  was  agitated — trembling,  and  evidently  affected 
by  some  recent  occurrence ;  in  truth,  she  could  scarcely  preserve  her 
composure,  or  credit  her  senses,  while  thinking  of  the  singular  dis- 
covery she  had  just  made  while  awaiting  the  return  of  Florine  in  the 
vestibule  overlooking  the  garden.  It  was  not  without  a  degree  of 
terror,  mixed  with  vague  apprehensions  of  ill,  that  La  Mayeux  found 
herself  alone  with  the  abbess  of  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie. 


CHAPTER    LXI. 

THE  TEMPTATION, 

THE  origin  of  La  Mayeux's  uneasiness  and  agitation  was  as 
follows  • — 

Florine,  when  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  superior,  had  left 
the  young  girl  in  a  long  vestibule,  furnished  with  benches,  and  form- 
Ing  a  sort  of  antechamber  to  the  apartments  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
building. 

Finding  herself  alone,  La  Mayeux  had  mechanically  approached  a 
window  opening  on  the  garden  of  the  convent,  bounded  on  this  side  by 
a  half-demolished  wall,  and  terminated  at  one  end  by  a  wooden 
palisading,  the  upper  part  of  which  was  merely  latticed :  this  wall, 
which  served  as  a  boundary  and  divisionary  line  between  the  convent 
garden,  and  that  of  an  adjacent  house,  led  also  to  a  chapel  now  in 
progress  of  erection. 

While  observing  the  singular  form  of  the  adjoining  house,  with  its 
dome -shaped  roof,  its  closely  grated  windows,  and  sombre,  gloomy 
air,  the  attention  of  La  Mayeux  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  young  female  at  one  of  the  windows  of  the  ground-floor,  who, 
earnestly  gazing  on  the  opposite  building  of  the  convent,  kept  making 
repeated  gestures,  at  once  affectionate  and  encouraging. 

From  the  situation  in  which  she  stood,  La  Mayeux  could  not 
discern  to  whom  these  signals  of  intelligence  were  addressed  ;  but  she 
could  well  observe  the  extreme  loveliness  of  the  person  from  whom 
they  proceeded,  the  exquisite  brilliancy  of  her  complexion,  the  lustre  of 
her  full,  dark  eye,  and  the  gentle,  benevolent  smile  which  played  on  her 
lips ;  yet  she  doubted  not  but  these  pantomimic  demonstrations  of 
regard  were  fully  understood  and  reciprocated  by  the  party  to  wl^om 
they  were  intended,  and  who  evidently  responded  to  them  in  corre- 
sponding assurances  of  affection  ;  for  almost  immediately  after,  the  fair 
stranger,  placing  her  left  hand  on  her  heart,  with  a  gesture  at  once 
graceful  and  expressive,  intimated,  by  a  motion  of  her  right  hand,  that 
her  heart  would  fain  take  her  to  the  spot  on  which  her  eyes  so  earnestly 
gazed,  might  she  but  follow  its  impulse. 

The  sun,  darting  forth  its  subdued  rays  from  the  wintry  clouds 
which  obscured  it,  cast  a  gleam  of  brightness  on  the  rich  hair  of  the 
pale  and  delicate  creature  who  stood  closely  pressed  against  the  iron 
bars  of  her  window,  and  surrounded  with  a  halo  of  rich  light  the 
masses  of  golden-tinted  hair  which  streamed  over  her  neck  and 
shoulders. 


426  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

At  the  sight  of  this  beauteous  countenance,  shaded  by  the  thick 
veil  of  rich  auburn  curls  which  hung  adown  her  cheeks,  La  Mayeux 
started,  and  involuntarily  the  idea  of  its  being  Mademoiselle  de  Car- 
doville  recurred  to  her,  and  she  felt  assured  (and  with  justice  too) 
that  the  protectress  of  Agricola  was  before  her. 

Her  finding  this  young  and  lovely  being  the  wretched  occupant  of 
a  madhouse,  recollecting  as  she  did  the  kindness  and  delicacy  with 
which  she  had  received  Agricola,  shot  a  keen  pang  through  the  kind 
and  feeling  heart  of  La  Mayeux,  who,  while  fully  believing  the  report 
of  her  madness,  could  not  help  fancying  she  had  never  seen  features 
apparently  more  illumined  with  graceful  intelligence  than  were  those 
of  Mademoiselle  Cardoville  at  that  very  minute. 

All  at  once  the  fair  creature,  on  whom  La  Mayeux 's  eyes  were 
fixed,  seemed  to  start — made  an  expressive  gesture  of  haste — placed 
her  finger  on  her  lips — blew  two  kisses  in  the  same  direction  to 
which  all  her  signals  had  been  directed,  and  quickly  disappeared. 

Remembering  the  important  revelations  which  Agricola  had  to 
make  to  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  La  Mayeux  regretted  so  much 
the  more  severely  the  impossibility  of  gaining  access  to  her,  as  she  felt 
convinced  that,  if  she  were  really  out  of  her  senses,  at  least  she  had  her 
lucid  intervals. 

The  young  sempstress  remained  plunged  in  these  uneasy  re- 
flections, when  she  was  aroused  by  the  return  of  Florine,  accompanied 
by  one  of  the  sisters  of  the  convent. 

La  Mayeux  was,  therefore,  constrained  to  preserve  silence  as  to 
the  interesting  discovery  she  had  just  made,  and,  quickly  follow  ing  her 
conductor,  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  the  superior,  who,  after 
casting  a  rapid  and  scrutinising  glance  over  the  physiognomy  of  the 
young  needle- woman,  was  so  entirely  satisfied  with  the  gentle  goodness 
and  timid  amiability  of  its  expression,  that  she  hesitated  not  to  give 
entire  credence  to  all  Florine  had  advanced  in  her  favour. 

"Approach,  my  dear  daughter,"  said  Mother  Perpetue,  in  an 
affectionate  tone,  "I  have  heard  from  Florine  the  painful  circum- 
stances in  which  you  are  placed.  Is  it  really  the  case  that  you  are 
destitute  of  employment  at  present  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  madame,  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  too  true." 

"  Call  me  mother,  my  dear  child ;  that  name  sounds  more  plea- 
santly, and  is,  besides,  according  to  the  rules  of  our  holy  house.  I 
need  scarcely  ask  you  what  are  your  principles  ?  " 

"  I  have  always  maintained  myself  honestly  by  my  labour,  holy 
mother,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  with  a  touching  simplicity,  and  an  air 
at  once  dignified  and  modest. 

"  I  doubt  it  not,  my  child ;  indeed,  I  have  many  reasons  for  think- 
ing you  have  acted  wisely  and  well ;  and  you  should  bless  the  Lord, 
who  has  placed  you  out  of  reach  of  many  temptations  with  which 
others  are  assailed.  Tell  me,  are  you  skilful  at  your  business  ?  " 

"  I  have  always  done  my  best,  holy  mother,  to  please  and  satisfy 
those  who  have  employed  me,  and  have  generally  succeeded  in  so 
doing.  But,  if  you  would  please  to  set  me  to  work,  you  could  then 
judge  of  my  abilities  better  than  I  can." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  child,  what  you  say  respecting  them  is  quite 
sufficient.  You  prefer,  I  think,  working  by  the  day  ?" 


THE  TEMPTATION.  427 

"  Mademoiselle  Florine  told  me,  holy  mother,  that  I  must  not  hope 
to  be  allowed  to  take  the  work  home  with  me." 

"Not  at  present,  my  child;  but  hereafter,  perhaps,  should  an  op- 
portunity occur,  I  may  be  enabled  to  manage  this  for  you.  I  can 
offer  you  this  for  the  present.  I  have  been  applied  to,  by  a  most 
respectable  old  lady,  to  recommend  to  her  a  daily  workwoman ;  intro- 
duced by  me,  you  will  instantly  be  engaged,  the  charity  will  take  upon 
itself  to  provide  you  with  suitable  attire,  and  you  will  pay  back  the 
sum  advanced  by  little  and  little  from  what  you  earn,  for  you  will 
receive  your  pay  through  our  hands ;  your  remuneration  will  be  two 
francs  a-day,  does  that  appear  enough  to  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  Enough  !  oh,  holy  mother,  it  exceeds  my  utmost  hopes  !" 

"  You  will  only  be  occupied  from  nine  in  the  morning  till  six  in 
the  evening,  so  that  you  will  still  have  several  hours  at  your  own 
disposal.  You  see  the  conditions  are  very  easy,  are  they  not?" 

"  Oh,  very,  very  easy,  holy  mother  !" 

"  I  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  explain  to  you  where  it  is  the 
charity  proposes  to  place  you ;  it  is  in  the  family  of  a  widow-lady 
named  Madame  de  Bremont,  a  person  of  extreme  piety,  and  in  whose 
house  I  believe  and  hope  you  would  have  only  the  best  examples  in 
every  respect — or,  if  indeed  it  turned  out  otherwise,  why,  you  would 
let  me  know  ?" 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,  holy  mother,"  said  La  Mayeux,  with 
a  sort  of  bewildered  surprise. 

"  Then  just  listen  to  me,  my  dear  daughter,"  said  Mother  Sainte- 
Perpetue,  with  an  increasingly  bland  and  affectionate  manner :  "  Sainte- 
Marie's  Charity  has  a  holy  and  a  double  aim  in  view ;  you  can  under- 
stand, can  you  not,  that  if  it  is  our  duty  to  afford  the  heads  of  families 
every  requisite  guarantee  for  the  morality  of  those  persons  who  are 
placed  through  our  recommendation  in  the  midst  of  their  household, 
so  it  is  equally  an  obligation  upon  us  to  satisfy  those  whom  we  intro- 
duce into  an  establishment  as  to  the  correctness  and  propriety  of 
those  to  whom  we  send  them." 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  fair  and  prudent  on  both  sides,  holy 
mother." 

"  Certainly,  daughter,  it  is,  as  you  observe,  fair  on  both  sides ; 
for,  as  an  ill-conducted  servant  might  cause  serious  annoyance  in  a 
family  of  respectability,  so,  by  the  same  rule,  a  mother  or  mistress  of 
improper  conduct  or  principles  might  exercise  a  very  dangerous  influ- 
ence over  the  minds  of  their  domestics,  or  those  who  merely  serve 
them  in  a  daily  capacity.  Now  it  is  to  offer  a  mutual  guarantee  to 
virtuous  servants  and  employers  that  our  charity  has  been  instituted." 

"  Ah,  madame,"  said  La  Mayeux,  innocently,  "  those  who  could 
devise  such  a  scheme  deserve  the  thanks  and  blessings  of  every  one  !" 

"No  doubt,  my  child;  and  our  charity  may  justly  claim  these 
thanks,  since  it  performs  all  it  undertakes  to  do.  Now,  for  example  : 
a  young  and  interesting  person — like  yourself,  for  instance — is  placed 
with  persons  whom  we  believe  to  be  of  irreproachable  morals ;  but 
should  she  perceive,  either  in  her  employers  or  in  those  who  habitually 
frequent  the  house,  any  irregularity  of  manners,  the  slightest  tendency 
towards  an  irreligious  mode  of  opinion,  or,  in  fact,  any  thing  calculated 
to  offend  decency,  modesty,  or  good  sense,  why  then  she  would  come 


428  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

to  us  her  protectors,  and  give  us  a  detailed  and  confidential  account  of 
all  that  lias  alarmed  her  notions  of  propriety.  Nothing  can  be  more 
just  than  that,  can  it?" 

"  No,  holy  mother,"  answered  La  Mayeux,  timidly,  while  she 
began  to  think  these  precautions  and  provisions  were  somewhat 
singular. 

"  Then,"  continued  the  superior,  "  should  the  case  appear  serious, 
we  advise  our  protegees  to  observe  more  closely  still,  in  order  to  be 
well  convinced  whether  their  alarms  be  well  founded  or  not.  Fresh 
matter  for  confidential  communication  is  brought  to  us ;  and  should 
our  apprehensions  be  confirmed,  then,  faithful  to  our  pious  charge,  we 
immediately  withdraw  our  protegee  from  the  risk  of  moral  contamina- 
tion :  but,  as  a  great  number  of  persons  in  humble  life,  spite  of  their 
virtuous,  well-intentioned  minds,  are  not  always  gifted  with  sufficient 
discrimination  of  that  which  is  hurtful  to  their  souls,  we  prefer,  for 
their  own  good,  that  every  eighth  day  they  should  relate  to  us  (as  a 
child  would  to  its  parent),  either  verbally  or  in  writing,  every  thing 
that  has  passed  during  the  week  in  the  houses  in  which  they  are 
placed,  so  that  we  can  decide  for  them — whether  to  allow  them  to 
continue  residents  in  such  households  or  to  withdraw  them.  We 
have  at  this  present  time  nearly  a  hundred  individuals  compa- 
nions to  ladies,  shopwomen,  servants,  and  daily  workwomen,  placed 
according  to  these  conditions  in  a  vast  number  of  families,  and,  for 
the  interest  of  all  concerned,  we  have  daily  reason  to  rejoice  in  the 
good  effects  of  the  plan  adopted.  You  fully  comprehend,  my  dear 
daughter,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Quite — quite,  holy  mother,"  answered  La  Mayeux,  becoming 
more  and  more  embarrassed.  She  possessed  too  much  uprightness  of 
mind  as  well  as  sagacity  not  to  perceive  that  this  system  of  mutually 
assuring  the  morality  of  masters  and  servants  resembled  a  species  of 
familiar  espionage — a  kind  of  betrayal  of  the  freedom  and  liberty  of  the 
domestic  hearth,  organised  upon  a  vast  scale,  and  executed,  by  the 
objects  of  the  charity's  patronage,  almost  unknown  to  themselves ;  for 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  disguise  more  skilfully  or  speciously  the 
habit  of  repeating  all  they  heard,  or  to  conceal  more  artfully  the  base 
and  treacherous  part  assigned  to  those  who  unconsciously  fulfilled  the 
nefarious  purposes  of  the  sinister  spirits,  whose  puppets  they  unknow- 
ingly were. 

"  If  I  have  entered  into  these  long  details,  my  dear  daughter," 
said  the  superior,  taking  the  silence  of  La  Mayeux  for  consent,  "  it  is 
in  order  to  shew  you  that  you  would  not  be  obliged  to  remain  against 
your  inclination  in  a  house  where,  I  repeat,  contrary  to  our  expecta- 
tions, you  would  not  at  all  times  be  surrounded  with  good  and  pious 
examples.  Now  the  family  of  Madame  de  Bremont,  where  I  propose 
to  establish  you,  is  indeed  a  holy  and  godly  one.  Certainly  I  have 
been  told  (though  I  am  far  from  giving  credit  to  it)  that  the  daughter 
of  Madame  Bremont,  Madame  de  Noisy,  who  has  recently  come  to 
live  with  her,  is  not  altogether  exemplary  in  her  conduct — that  she. 
does  not  perform  her  religious  duties  with  befitting  regularity,  and 
that,  during  the  absence  of  her  husband,  who  is  now  in  America,  she 
receives  the  unfortunately  too  assiduous  visits  of  a  rich  manufacturer, 
named  M.  Hardy." 


THE  TEMPTATION. 

At  this  mention  of  Agricola's  patron,  La  Mayeux  could  not  re- 
strain a  movement  of  surprise,  while  a  faint  blush  coloured  her  pule 
cheek. 

The  superior,  however,  construing  both  the  start  and  the  blush 
into  a  proof  of  the  sensitive  modesty  of  the  young  sempstress,  pro- 
ceeded to  say, — 

"  I  thought  it  right,  my  daughter,  to  tell  you  all  this,  in  order  that 
you  might  be  completely  on  your  guard,  and,  for  the  same  reason,  I 
have  reverted  to  the  rumours  afloat  concerning  Madame  de  Noisy.  At 
the  same  time,  I  must  repeat,  that  I  entirely  disbelieve  them,  because 
the  daughter  of  Madame  de  Bremont  has  been  too  well  brought  up, 
and  had  too  holy  examples  constantly  before  her,  ever  to  be  capable  of 
so  far  forgetting  herself;  besides,  being  in  the  house  from  morning 
till  evening,  no  one  could  have  a  better  opportunity  than  yourself  of 
judging  how  far  these  reports  are  true  or  false.  If,  unhappily,  you 
should  suppose  the  former  to  be  the  case,  why,  then,  my  child,  you 
would  be  sure  to  come  and  lay  before  me  all  your  most  minute  reasons 
for  coming  to  that  conclusion  ;  and,  if  I  concurred  in  your  opinion,  I 
should  instantly  withdraw  you  from  that  house,  because  the  sanctity 
of  the  mother  would  not  sufficiently  compensate  for  the  deplorable 
example  the  improper  conduct  of  the  daughter  would  afford  ;  for,  from 
the  instant  you  become  a  member  of  our  charity,  I  hold  myself  re- 
sponsible for  your  safety,  and  even  in  the  event  of  your  tenderness  of 
conscience  or  religious  scruples  obliging  you  to  quit  Madame  de  Bre- 
mont, should  you  remain  any  length  of  time  unemployed,  the  charity, 
if  perfectly  satisfied  with  your  zeal  and  conduct,  will  allow  you  a 
franc  a- day  until  another  situation  can  be  procured  for  you.  Thus, 
you  perceive,  my  dear  daughter,  you  have  every  thing  to  gain  and 
nothing  to  lose  by  the  transaction.  Now,  I  believe,  I  have  named 
every  thing;  it  is,  therefore,  a  settled  thing  that  you  go  to  Madame  de 
Bremont  the  day  after  to-morrow  ?" 

La  Mayeux  found  herself  most  terribly  perplexed.  Sometimes  she 
believed  her  first  suspicions  were  correct;  and,  spite  of  her  natural 
timidity,  her  pride  revolted  at  the  idea  that,  because  she  was  poor  and 
destitute,  she  should  be  supposed  capable  of  selling  herself  as  a  spy, 
tli rough  the  temptation  of  a  liberal  salary.  Then  her  mind  refused 
to  admit  the  belief  that  a  woman  of  the  age  and  calling  of  the  supe- 
rior would  descend  to  address  to  her  a  proposition  alike  disgraceful 
to  the  proposer  or  the  accepter.  At  last,  while  blaming  herself  for  the 
injurious  suspicions  she  had  entertained,  she  came  to  the  conclusion, 
that,  before  employing  her,  the  superior  was  desirous  of  testing  the 
integrity  of  her  principles  by  subjecting  her  to  a  hard  and  trying 
pfoof  through  the  offer  of  pay,  to  her  so  great  and  dazzling. 

With  that  natural  desire  to  think  well  of  every  one,  which  formed 
part  of  La  Mayeux's  character,  she  determined  to  adopt  this  last  idea, 
in  which  she  was  further  strengthened  by  reflecting,  that  even  if 
wrong,  it  would  be  the  least  offensive  way  of  refusing  the  unworthy 
offers  of  the  superior. 

With  a  movement  Avholly  devoid  of  pride,  but  which  spoke  the  full 
sense  she  entertained  of  what  was  due  to  herself,  the  young  workwo- 
man, raising  her  head,  which  she  had  hitherto  kept  modestly  bent 
downwards,  looked  the  superior  full  in  the  face,  in  order  that  the 


430  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

sincerity  of  her  words  might  be  seen  in  her  countenance,  and  said  in 
a  slightly  tremulous  voice,  forgetting  in  her  agitation  the  form  of  ad- 
dress dictated, — 

"  Madame,  it  is  not  for  me  to  blame  you  for  having  thus  subjected 
me  to  such  a  proof  as  this.  You  see  in  me  a  poor,  distressed  creature, 
who  as  yet  has  had  no  means  of  proving  myself  deserving  of  your 
confidence ;  but,  poor  as  I  am,  be  assured  that  no  temptation  in  the 
world  should  ever  induce  me  to  disgrace  myself  by  the  performance  of 
such  an  action  as  that  you  were,  no  doubt,  obliged  to  propose  to  me, 
in  order  that  my  refusal  might  convince  you  I  am  worthy  of  your 
kind  assistance.  No,  no,  madame,  not  all  the  wealth  in  the  world 
should  ever  induce  me  to  become  a  spy,  or  reveal  the  actions  of  those 
who  gave  me  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  permitted  me  to  enter 
their  house." 

La  Mayeux  pronounced  these  last  words  with  so  much  animation, 
that  a  bright  crimson  suffused  her  whole  countenance. 

The  superior  had  too  much  tact  and  experience  not  to  feel  and 
know  that  La  Mayeux  spoke  from  the  sincerity  of  her  heart ;  and,  glad 
to  see  the  light  in  which  the  young  girl  placed  her  motives  for  making 
the  proposition  she  had  done,  she  smiled  blandly  on  her,  and,  ex- 
tending her  arms,  said,  in  a  tone  of  affectionate  approbation, — 

"  Excellent,  my  child — most  excellent !     Let  me  embrace  youl" 

"  Holy  mother,  so  much  goodness  on  your  part  quite  confuses 
me  I  I " 

"  Nay,  my  daughter,  rather  let  me  thank  you  for  the  happiness  it 
gives  me  to  hear  such  words  of  upright  and  determined  honesty  from 
one  so  young,  and  so  exposed  to  temptation  ;  but  dismiss  from  your 
mind  the  idea  that  I  have  been  merely  putting  your  principles  to  any 
test,  because  nothing  can  be  less  like  treachery  or  espionage  than, 
those  marks  of  filial  confidence,  which  we  require  of  our  protegees, 
solely  with  a  view  to  preserve  their  morality  sound  and  uninjured. 
Yet  some  there  are,  and  I  perceive  you,  my  dear  daughter,  are 
amongst  the  number,  whose  principles  are  so  thoroughly  established, 
and  their  intelligence  so  great,  that  they  can  dispense  with  our  super- 
intendance  and  counsels,  and  judge  for  themselves  as  to  what  is  in- 
imical to  their  welfare  of  soul  or  body ;  thus,  then,  I  leave  the  whole 
responsibility  to  you,  requiring  no  further  confidence  from  you  than 
such  as  you  yourself  shall  consider  it  your  duty  to  place,  voluntarily 
and  unsolicited,  in  me." 

"Ah,  madame,  how  kind  —  how  good  you  are!"  exclaimed  poor 
La  Mayeux,  ignorant  of  the  thousand  turnings  and  windings,  the 
countless  resources,  of  the  monkish  school,  and  now  believing  all 
obstacles  to  her  gaining  an  easy  and  honourable  subsistence  were  all 
surmounted. 

"  Nay,  talk  not  of  kindness,  my  daughter,  I  am  but  performing  an  act 
of  justice,"  interrupted  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue,  while  her  accent  and 
manner  became  more  and  more  affectionate.  "  Too  much  tenderness 
and  confidence  can  scarcely  be  manifested  towards  heavenly-minded 
children  such  as  you,  who  have  been  purified  by  worldly  trials,  and 
found  favour  in  this  world,  as  they  will  do  in  the  next,  because  they 
have  faithfully  and  steadfastly  walked  in  His  ways,  and  practised  His 
blessed  ordinances." 


THE  TEMPTATION.  481 

"  Holy  mother,  indeed  I  do  not  deserve  this  praise  ! " 

"  One  other  and  last  question,  my  dear  daughter :  how  often  do 
you  approach  the  sacred  table  during  a  month  ?" 

"  Madame,"  replied  La  Mayeux,  "  I  have  never  done  so  since  my 
first  communion,  at  the  age  of  eight  years.  Scarcely,  by  working 
every  day,  and  all  day  long,  could  I  earn  sufficient  to  procure  the 
humblest  food  and  raiment ;  thus  then  I  have  not  found  time  for " 

"  Mother  of  God  I"  exclaimed  the  superior,  interrupting  La 
Mayeux,  and  clasping  her  hands  with  every  appearance  of  the  painful 
astonishment,  "  can  this  be  true  ?  Then  you  do  not  go  to  con- 
fession ?  " 

"  Alas,  madame,  I  told  you  but  now  that  I  had  no  leisure  for 
such  duties !"  replied  La  Mayeux,  looking  at  Mother  Sainte-Perpetue 
with  an  alarmed  gaze. 

A  short  silence  prevailed,  when  the  superior  said,  in  a  voice  of 
mingled  disappointment  and  grief, — 

"  You  distress  me  greatly,  my  daughter.  As  I  told  you  before, 
for  the  same  reasons  that  we  scrupulously  avoid  placing  our  protegees 
in  any  bad  pious  establishment,  so  also  do  we  require  persons  of  pious 
habits,  and  regular  communicants,  to  recommend  to  our  friends ; 
indeed,  to  attend  the  confessional  regularly  and  unfailingly  is  one  of 
the  indispensable  conditions  of  the  charity.  Thus,  to  my  great  regret, 
will  it  be  quite  out  of  my  power  to  give  you  the  employment  I  pro- 
posed doing :  still,  should  you  hereafter  amend  this  inexcusable  indif- 
ference to  your  religious  duties,  then,  perhaps,  I  may  be  able  to  do 
something." 

"  Madame,"  said  La  Mayeux,  her  heart  swelling  almost  to  bursting, 
at  being  thus  obliged  to  renounce  the  flattering  prospect  held  out  to 
her,  "  I  beg  you  to  pardon  me  for  having  detained  you  so  long — for 
nothing." 

"  Be  assured,  my  dear  daughter,  I  greatly  regret  being  unable  to 
take  you  upon  the  books  of  the  charity  ;  still  I  do  not  altogether 
resign  the  hope,  especially  because  I  would  fain  see  one,  already  so 
worthy  of  interest,  merit  the  further  assistance  and  regard  of  pious 
persons,  and  earnestly  hope  ere  long  that  by  the  regular  observance  of 
your  religious  duties  you  may  obtain  the  valuable  and  substantial 
patronage  of  good  and  holy  persons.  Adieu,  my  dear  daughter,  go  in 
peace ;  and  may  God  be  merciful  to  you,  and  bring  you  wholly  back 
to  Him  !" 

So  saying,  the  superior  rose,  and  conducted  La  Mayeux  to  the 
door,  still  wearing  the  kindest  and  most  maternal  air;  then,  just  as  La 
Mayeux  was  passing  the  threshold,  she  said, — 

"  Proceed  along  the  corridor,  descend  a  few  steps ;  knock  at  the 
second  door  on  the  right,  it  is  the  work-room  :  you  will  find  Florine 
there,  she  will  take  you  back  to  your  home.  Adieu,  my  daughter." 

As  soon  as  La  Mayeux  was  out  of  sight  of  the  superior,  her  tears, 
which  she  had  restrained  till  then,  flowed  rapidly ;  and,  not  liking  to 
appear  in  this  condition  before  Florine  and  any  of  the  nuns  who  might 
be  assembled  in  the  work-room,  she  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  near 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  corridor  to  dry  her  eyes,  from  which  the 
tears  kept  falling  fast.  Mechanically  she  looked  towards  the  window 
of  the  opposite  house,  at  which  she  saw  the  female  she  conjectured  to 


432  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

be  Adriennc  dc  Cardoville,  when  she  perceived  the  same  individual 
issue  forth  from  a  side-door,  and  proceed  rapidly  towards  the  palisades 
which  divided  the  two  gardens. 

At  the  same  instant,  to  the  unutterable  amazement  of  La  Mayeux, 
she  saw  one  of  the  two  sisters  whose  disappearance  had  so  distressed 
Dagobert,  Rose  Simon,  pale,  exhausted,  and  scarcely  able  to  support 
herself,  approach  with  timid  caution  to  the  lattice-work  which  sepa- 
rated her  from  Mademoiselle  dc  Cardoville,  looking  around  with 
trembling  apprehension,  as  though  fearful  of  being  perceived. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

LA  MAYEUX  AND  MADEMOISELLE  DE  CARDOVILLE. 

LA  MAYEUX  agitated,  watchful,  and  excited,  leaned  against  the 
window  at  which  she  was  standing,  and  followed  with  her  eyes  the 
movements  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cordoville  and  Rose  Simon,  whom  she 
so  little  expected  to  see  together  in  this  place. 

The  orphan,  approaching  close  to  the  opening  of  the  gate  which 
separated  the  garden  of  the  community  from  that  of  the  house  of 
Doctor  Baleinier,  said  a  few  words  to  Adrienne,  whose  countenance 
expressed  at  once  astonishment,  indignation,  and  pity. 

At  this  moment,  a  nun  approached,  looking  about  her  as  if  she 
were  anxiously  seeking  for  some  one;  then,  perceiving  Rose,  who, 
timid  and  alarmed,  was  standing  close  against  the  open  work  of  the 
gate,  she  took  her  by  the  arm,  seemed  to  speak  angrily  to  her,  and,  in 
spite  of  some  words  which  mademoiselle  appeared  to  address  to  her 
with  much  emphasis,  the  sister  led  the  orphan  quickly  away,  who, 
deeply  distressed,  turned  two  or  three  times  towards  Adrienne,  who, 
after  having  evinced  her  interest  and  sympathy  by  most  expressive 
gestures,  turned  suddenly  away  as  if  to  conceal  her  tears. 

The  corridor  in  which  La  Mayeux  was  during  this  affecting 
scene  was  on  the  first  floor ;  and  the  thought  instantly  struck  the 
Workwoman  that  she  would  descend  to  the  ground-floor  and  endeavour 
to  introduce  herself  into  the  garden  in  order  to  speak  with  this  lovely 
girl  with  the  golden  hair,  and  make  sure  that  she  was  Mademoi- 
selle de  Cardoville,  and  then,  if  she  had  a  lucid  interval,  to  tell  her 
that  Agricola  had  matters  of  the  deepest  importance  to  relate  to  her, 
but  had  no  means  of  conveying  them  to  her. 

The  day  was  advancing  and  the  sun  was  nearly  setting,  and  La 
Mayeux,  fearful  that  Florine  would  be  tired  of  waiting  for  her, 
hastened  her  course  of  action.  Walking  with  a  light  step,  and  listen- 
ing each  moment  with  intense  anxiety,  she  reached  the  extremity  of 
the  corridor,  where  a  small  flight  of  two  or  three  steps  led  to  the  land- 
ing-place of  the  work-room,  and  then  found  a  circular  flight,  which 
led  to  (he  lower  floor. 

The  work-girl,  hearing  voices,  then  descended  quickly,  and  found 
herself  in  a  long  corridor  of  the  ground-floor,  in  the  middle  of  which 


LA    WAYEUX     DISCOVERING    ADRIENN'E. 


LA  MAYEUX  AND  MADEMOISELLE  DE  CAUDOVILLE.  433 

was  a  glaxcd  door  which  led  out  to  that  pail  of  the  garden  reserved 
for  the  superior. 

An  alley,  bordered  by  a  high  hedge  of  box,  eoncealed  La  Mayeux 
from  all  eyes  as  she  glided  along  it  and  reached  the  door  with  the 
opening  in  it,  which,  at  this  spot,  separated  the  convent  garden  from 
that  of  Dr.  Haleinier's  house. 

A  few  steps  from  her  the  work-girl  saw  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville  seated  and  leaning  on  a  rustic  bench. 

The  firmness  of  Adrieiinc's  character  had  been  momentarily  shaken 
by  the  fatigue,  the  surprise,  the  fright,  and  honor,  that  had  combined 
to  overwhelm  her  on  that  fearful  night  when  she  had  been  inveigled 
into  the  mad-house  of  Dr.  Baleinier,  who,  profiting  witli  fiendish 
cunning  by  the  state  of  weakness  and  prostration  to  which  that  young 
lady  was  reduced,  had  induced  her  for  a  moment  to  entertain  doubts  of 
herself. 

But  the  calm  which  succeeds  to  the  most  painful  and  violent  emo- 
tions, reflection,  and  the  reasoning  of  a  just  and  penetrating  mind, 
soon  reassured  Adrienne,  and  dissipated  the  fears  which  Dr.  Baleinier 
had  for  the  moment  excited.  She  did  not  even  give  the  learned 
doctor  credit  for  a  mistake,  but  read  plainly  the  man's  conduct— con- 
duct in  which  detestable  hypocrisy  and  a  singular  boldness  of  action 
were  aided  by  a  no  less  remarkable  skill  and^'wem-,  and,  though  too 
late,  yet  she  detected  in  M.  Baleinier  a  blind  instrument  of  Madame 
de  Saint-Dizier. 

Henceforward  she  preserved  entire  silence  and  exhibited  a  com- 
posure replete  with  dignity.  Not  a  complaint,  not  a  reproach, 
escaped  her  lips  ; — she  bided  her  time.  Notwithstanding,  she  was  al- 
lowed a  large  extent  of  liberty  in  her  walks  and  conduct  (always  ex- 
cepting the  permission  of  communicating  with  any  person  without  the 
walls),  the  present  position  of  Adrienne  was  irksome  and  most 
painful,  especially  to  her  so  fond  of  all  that  was  cheering  and  har- 
monious about  her.  Still  she  felt  that  this  endurance  could  not  last 
long.  She  was  unacquainted  with  the  operation  and  watchfulness  of 
the  laws,  but  her  plain  good  sense  told  her  that  a  compulsory  confine- 
ment of  some  days,  skilfully  attributed  to  certain  symptoms  of  derange- 
ment of  mind,  more  or  less  plausible,  might,  in  all  conformity  with 
rules,  be  attempted,  and  even  effected,  with  impunity,  but  with  the 
condition  of  not  being  protracted  beyond  certain  limits ;  because, 
after  all,  a  young  lady  of  her  rank  could  not  disappear  from  the  world 
all  at  once  without,  after  a  certain  time,  being  inquired  after,  and  then 
an  implied  or  asserted  attack  of  lunacy  would  give  rise  to  very  serious 
investigations.  True  or  false,  this  conviction  had  sufficed  to  restoro 
to  Adrienne's  mind  its  usual  tone  and  energy. 

Yet  from  time  to  time  she  vainly  tried  to  fathom  the  motive  of  her 
sequestration.  She  knew  Madame  de  Saint-Dizier  too  well  to  believe 
that  she  was  acting  without  some  precise  purpose,  and  not  merely  for 
the  sake  of  giving  her  some  momentary  annoyance  ;  and  in  this  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Cardoville  was  not  mistaken.  Father  d'Aigrigny  and 
the  princess  were  persuaded  that  Adrienne,  better  informed  than  she 
chose  to  let  them  know,  knew  full  well  how  important  it  was  for  her  to 
be  on  the  13th  of  February  in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  and  that  she 
was  resolved  on  maintaining  her  just  rights.  By  immuring  Adrienno 
28  F  F 


434  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

as  a  Innatic,  they  inflicted  a  heavy  blow  on  her  future  prospects.  But 
we  may  say  here,  that  this  latter  precaution  was  useless,  for  Adrienne, 
although  on  the  road  to  the  family  secret,  which  they  had  desired  to 
conceal  from  her,  and  of  which  they  believed  her  fully  cognisant, 
had  not,  in  fact,  entirely  developed  it  for  want  of  certain  documents 
which  had  not  been  discovered  or  had  been  removed. 

Whatever  was  the  motive  of  the  abominable  conduct  of  the  ene- 
mies of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  she  was  not  the  less  disgusted  at  it. 

No  one  could  be  more  free  from  hate,  less  thirsty  for  revenge, 
than  this  noble-minded  girl ;  but  when  she  reflected  on  all  that  Ma- 
dame de  Saint-Dizier,  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  and  Dr.  Baleinier,  had 
made  her  suffer,  she  made  up  her  mind  not  to  reprisals,  but  to  obtain 
by  every  possible  means  an  overwhelming  reparation.  If  that  were 
denied  her,  she  resolved  on  pursuing,  contending  against,  without  rest 
or  truce,  so  much  craft,  so  much  hypocrisy,  so  much  cruelty,  not  from 
resentment  for  her  sufferings,  but  to  spare  other  victims  from  under- 
going similar  miseries,  who  might  not  be  able,  as  she  was,  to  struggle 
and  defend  themselves. 

Adrienne,  still  under  the  painful  emotion  caused  by  her  interview 
with  Rose  Simon,  was  leaning  languidly  on  one  of  the  arms  of  the  rustic 
bench  on  which  she  was  seated,  and  kept  her  eyes  covered  with  her 
left  hand.  Her  bonnef  lay  beside  her,  and  the  inclined  position  of  her 
head  caused  her  long  tresses  of  auburn  hair  to  fall  on  her  fresh  and 
polished  cheeks,  which  were  thus  almost  entirely  concealed.  In  this 
reclining  position,[full  of  grace  and  ease,  the  beautiful  and  full  contour 
of  her  figure  was  defined  beneath  a  gown  of  dark  green  watered  silk  ; 
a  wide  collar,  fastened  by  knots  of  pink  satin,  and  flat  cuffs  of  point 
lace,  prevented  the  colour  of  her  gown  from  contrasting  too  abruptly 
with  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  her  swan-like  neck  and  hands  that 
Ilaphael  would  have  delighted  to  paint.  On  her  instep,  high  and  ex- 
quisitely defined,  were  sandalled  thin  slippers  of  black  satin;  for  Dr. 
Baleinier  had  allowed  her  to  attire  herself  with  her  usual  taste,  and, 
as  we  have  already  said,  elegance  and  exquisite  style  were  not  co- 
quetries on  the  part  of  Adrienne,  but  a  duty  to  herself  whom  God  had 
been  pleased  to  create  so  lovely. 

At  the  sight  of  this  young  lady,  whose  appearance  and  extreme  at- 
tractions La  Mayeux,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  so  greatly  ad- 
mired, without  a  thought  as  to  the  squalid  rags  she  wore  herself  and 
her  personal  deformity,  the  poor  work-girl  thought  to  herself  with 
much  good  sense  and  sagacity,  that  it  was  extraordinary  that  a  lunatic 
should  dress  herself  so  sensibly  and  becomingly  ;  and  it  was  therefore 
with  as  much  surprise  as  emotion  that  she  approached  very  softly  to 
the  grating  which  separated  her  from  Adrienne,  reflecting  that,  per- 
chance, this  unfortunate  lady  was  really  out  of  her  senses,  but  had  a 
lucid  interval 

Then  with  a  timid  voice,  but  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  La  May- 
eux, in  order  to  assure  herself  of  Adrienne's  identity,  said,  with  a  beat- 
ing heart,  "  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  I" 

"  Who  calls  me  ?"  said  Adrienne  ;  then,  lifting  her  head  quickly, 
and  perceiving  La  Mayeux,  she  could  not  restrain  a  slight  cry  of 
surprise  and  almost  alarm.  In  truth,  this  poor,  pale,  deformed,  wretch- 
edly clad  creature,  appearing  before  her  so  suddenly,  inspired  Made- 


LA  MAYEUX  AND  MADEMOISELLE  DE  CARDOVILLE.  435 

moiselle  de  Cardoville,  so  devotedly  attached  to  grace  and  beauty,  with 
a  sort  of  repugnance  and  affright.  And  those  two  feelings  were  dis- 
played in  her  expressive  countenance. 

La  Mayeux  did  not  perceive  the  impression  she  had  caused,  as 
motionless,  with  her  eyes  fixed,  her  hands  clasped,  with  a  sort  of  ad- 
miration, or  almost  adoration,  she  gazed  on  the  dazzling  beauty  of 
Adrienne,  whom  she  had  only  seen  through  the  grating  of  her  window ; 
and  what  Agricola  had  told  her  of  the  charms  of  his  protectress  ap- 
peared to  her  a  thousand  times  less  than  the  reality.  La  Mayeux 
never  even  in  her  secret  aspirations  as  a  poetess  had  dreamed  of  such 
rare  perfection. 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  the  appearance  of  the  beau-id£al 
threw  into  a  sort  of  divine  ecstasy  these  two  young  girls  so  wholly 
dissimilar — these  two  extreme  types  of  ugliness  and  beauty,  wealth 
and  misery. 

After  this  involuntary  homage  rendered  to  Adrienne,  La  Mayeux 
advanced  a  step  closer  to  the  iron  grating. 

"  What  is  it  you  seek  ? "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
rising  with  a  feeling  of  repulsion  which  did  not  escape  La  Mayeux, 
who,  lowering  her  eyes  timidly,  said,  in  a  gentle  voice, — 

"  Your,  pardon,  mademoiselle,  for  thus  presenting  myself  before 
you  ;  but  the  moments  are  precious, — I  come  from  Agricola." 

Saying  these  words,  the  young  work-girl  raised  her  eyes  uneasily, 
fearing  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  had  forgotten  the  name  of  the 
smith ;  but  to  her  great  surprise,  and  still  greater  joy,  Adrienne's 
alarm  seemed  to  decrease  at  the  sound  of  Agricola's  name. 

She  approached  the  grating  and  looked  at  La  Mayeux  with  bene- 
volent curiosity. 

"  You  come  from  M.  Agricola  Baudoin  ? "  she  inquired ;  "  and 
who  are  you  ?  " 

"  His  adopted  sister,  mademoiselle,  a  poor  work-girl,  who  lives  in 
the  same  house  as  he  does." 

Adrieune  seemed  to  call  up  her  recollection,  and  suddenly  reas- 
sured, said,  smiling  with  kindness,  and  after  a  moment's  pause, — 

"  It  was  you  who  persuaded  M.  Agricola  to  apply  to  me  for  his 
caution,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  What,  mademoiselle  !  do  you  recollect  that  ?  " 

"  I  never  forget  any  thing  that  is  generous  and  noble.  M.  Agri- 
cola  told  me  with  affection  of  your  devotion  to  him,  and  I  remember 
it  most  perfectly.  But  how  is  it  that  you  arc  here  in  this  convent?" 

"  I  was  told  that,  perhaps,  I  might  obtain  employment  here,  for  I 
am  out  of  work  ;  unfortunately  I  have  been  refused  by  the  superior." 

"And  how  did  you  recognise  me?" 

"  By  your  great  beauty,  mademoiselle,  of  which  Agricola  told 
me." 

"  Did  you  not  rather  recognise  me  by  this  ?  "  said  Adrienne,  smiling, 
and  passing  through  her  taper  fingers  the  end  of  one  of  her  long  and 
silken  tresses  of  golden  hair. 

"  You  must  forgive  Agricola,  mademoiselle,"  said  La  Mayeux,  with 
one  of  those  half  smiles  which  so  seldom  appeared  on  her  lips  ;  "  he  is 
a  poet,  and  when  with  respectful  admiration  he  drew  the  portrait  of 
his  protectress,  he  did  not  oinit  oue  of  her  rare  perfections." 


436  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  And  who  gave  you  the  idea  of  coming  and  speaking  to  me  ?  " 

"  The  hope  of  being  able  to  serve  you,  mademoiselle.  You 
received  Agricola  with  so  much  kindness  that  I  have  ventured  to 
share  his  gratitude  towards  you." 

"  Dared  I  dared  !  my  dear  child,"  said  Adrienne,  with  indefinable 
grace,  "  my  recompense  will  be  redoubled,  although  till  now  I  have 
only  been  useful  to  your  worthy  adopted  brother  in  intention  alone." 

During  the  interchange  of  these  words  Adrienne  and  La  Mayeux 
had  each,  in  their  turn,  looked  at  each  other  with  increasing  surprise. 

For  her  part  La  Mayeux  could  not  comprehend  how  a  woman 
who  was  declared  a  lunatic  could  express  herself  as  Adrienne  did, 
and  then  she  was  astonished  at  herself  for  the  freedom,  or,  rather,  the 
want  of  embarrassment,  with  which  she  was  able  to  reply  to  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville,  not  knowing  that  that  lady  possessed  that  pre- 
cious privilege  of  elevated  and  benevolent  natures,  to  place  at  their 
ease  all  those  who  approached  them  with  sympathy. 

On  her  side  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  was  at  the  same  time 
deeply  moved  and  astonished  to  hear  this  young  girl,  one  of  the  lower 
orders,  clothed  like  a  beggar,  express  herself  in  such  excellent  and 
appropriate  language. 

The  longer  she  looked  at  La  Mayeux,  the  more  the  unpleasant 
sensation  which  she  had  at  first  experienced  changed  into  a  sentiment 
of  the  precisely  opposite  nature.  With  that  tact  of  quick  and  pene- 
trating observation  so  natural  to  women,  she  remarked  beneath  (he 
wretched  black  crape  cap  which  La  Mayeux  wore  a  beautiful  head  of 
hair,  soft,  lustrous,  and  of  deep  chestnut.  She  also  observed  that  her 
white,  long,  and  thin  hands,  though  appearing  from  underneath  the 
sleeves  of  a  tattered  gown,  were  singularly  clean,  a  proof  that  care, 
cleanliness,  and  self-respect,  struggled  against  dire  distress.  Adrienne 
detected  in  the  wan  hue  of  her  saddened  countenance,  in  the  expression 
of  her  blue  eyes,  at  once  sensible,  gentle,  and  timid,  a  charm  at  once 
touching  and  affecting,  and  a  modest  dignity,  that  caused  an  observer 
to  forget  the  deformity  of  the  poor  needlewoman. 

Adrienne  was  passionately  f«nd  of  physical  beauty,  but  she  had  a 
mind  too  elevated,  a  soul  too  noble,  a  heart  too  sensitive,  not  to  ap- 
preciate the  moral  beauty  which  so  often  beams  forth  in  a  humble  and 
suffering  countenance ;  only  that  until  now  this  appreciation  was  quite 
new  to  Mademoiselle  Adrienne,  whose  high  fortune  and  aristocratic 
habits  had  hitherto  kept  her  from  contact  with  persons  of  La  Mayeux's 
class. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the  lovely  patrician  and 
the  lowly  needlewoman  were  mutually  examining  each  other  with 
increasing  surprise,  Adrienne  said  to  La  Mayeux, — 

"  The  cause  of  our  mutual  astonishment  is,  I  think,  easily  ex- 
plained. You  find,  no  doubt,  that  I  speak  rationally  enough  for  a 
mad  woman,  if  you  have  been  told  I  am  one ;  and  I,"  added  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville,  with  a  tone  of  commiseration  which  might  be 
termed  respectful,  "  I  find  that  the  delicacy  of  your  language  and 
manner  contrast  so  strangely  with  the  position  in  which  you  seem  to 
be,  that  my  surprise  must  be  even  greater  than  your  own." 

••  Ah,  mademoiselle ! "  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  with  so  much  ex- 
pression of  happiness  that  the  tears  of  joy  stood  in  her  eyes,  "  can  this 


LA  MA  VEL  \  AND  MADEMOISELLE  DE  CARDOVILLE.  437 

be  true  ?  I  have  been  deceived,  and  in  seeing  you  just  now  so  lovely, 
so  kind,  and  hearing  your  sweet  voice,  I  could  not  credit  that  such  a 
misfortune  had  befallen  you.  But,  alas !  how  is  it,  thm.  mademoiselle, 
that  you  are  here  ?  " 

"  Poor  child  ! "  said  Adrienne,  deeply  moved  at  the  sympathy 
which  the  worthy  creature  testified  for  her ;  "  and  how  is  it  that  with 
so  much  heart,  with  a  mind  so  elevated,  you,  too,  are  unhappy  ?  But 
take  comfort,  I  shall  not  be  here  for  ever ;  you  and  I  will  both  soon 
assume  the  position  to  which  we  are  entitled.  Believe  me,  I  will 
never  forget  that,  in  spite  of  the  painful  distress  in  which  you  must  bo 
at  finding  yourself  deprived  of  work,  which  is  your  only  resource,  you 
have  still  thought  of  coming  to  me  to  try  and  serve  me  ;  and,  indeed, 
you  may  serve  me  most  importantly,  and  that  gives  me  an  additional 
pleasure,  because  I  shall  owe  you  so  much,  and  you  shall  see  what 
advantages  I  will  take  of  my  gratitude !"  said  Adrienne,  with  a  smile 
like  an  angel.  "  But,"  she  added,  "  before  you  think  of  me,  let  us 
think  a  little  of  others.  Is  not  your  adopted  brother  in  prison  ?" 

••  Not  at  this  moment,  mademoiselle,  I  think ;  for,  thanks  to  the 
generosity  of  a  comrade,  his  father  went  yesterday  to  deposit  the 
caution,  and  they  promised  that  he  should  be  at  liberty  to-day  ;  but 
he  wrote  from  his  prison  to  say  that  he  had  most  important  disclosures 
to  reveal  to  you." 

"  To  me?" 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle.  Agricola  will,  I  hope,  be  free  to-day.  How 
can  he  convey  this  information  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  has  important  disclosures  to  reveal  to  me  ! "  repeated  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville,  with  an  astonished  and  reflecting  air.  "  I  can- 
not imagine  what  they  can  be  ;  but,  whilst  I  am  shut  up  in  this  house, 
and  precluded  from  any  communication  out  of  it,  M.  Agricoln  must 
not  address  me  here,  directly  or  indirectly ;  he  must  wait  until  I  get 
out.  And  that  is  not  all ;  he  must  also  remove  from  this  convent  two 
poor  children,  much  more  to  be  pitied  than  I  am,  the  daughters  of 
Marshal  Simon,  who  are  confined  here  against  their  will." 

"  Do  you,  then,  know  their  name/,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  M.  Agricola  told  me,  at  the  same  time  he  acquainted  me  with 
their  being  in  Paris,  of  their  surprising  resemblance  to  each  other,  so 
that,  when,  during  my  accustomed  walk  the  day  before  yesterday,  I 
remarked  two  young,  creatures,  evidently  weeping  bitterly,  presenting 
themselves  from  time  to  time  against  the  bars  of  their  separate  cells, 
situated  the  one  on  the  ground-floor,  the  other  on  the  story  above,  a 
secret  presentiment  whispered  to  me  that  I  beheld  the  orphans  of 
whom  M.  Agricola  had  spoken,  and  in  •whose  fate  (as  my  own  re- 
lations) I  take  so  lively  an  interest." 

"  Is  it,  possible,  mademoiselle,  they  are  related  to  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  they  are  ;  but,  unable  to  do  more,  I  endeavoured  by 
signs  to  express  how  deeply  I  felt  for  them :  their  tears,  and  the  dis- 
tress so  evidently  depicted  on  their  countenances,  perfectly  convinced 
me  that  they  were  as  completely  imprisoned  in  the  convent  as  I  was 
in  the  house  adjoining." 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  I  perceive  now  you  are  possibly  a  victim  to 
the  animosity  of  your  family  ! " 

"  Whatever  may  be  the  evils  of  my  lot,  I  am  certainly  less  to,  be 


438  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

pitied  than  these  two  poor  girls  whose  grief  and  despair  are  really 
heart-rending  to  behold  ;  their  separation  from  each  other  is  evidently 
their  greatest  affliction,  and,  from  a  few  words  I  managed  to  exchange 
with  one  of  them  just  now,  I  perceive  that  they,  like  myself,  are  the 
victims  of  a  vile  conspiracy ;  however,  thanks  to  you,  we  may  still 
manage  to  save  them.  Since  my  being  placed  here,  as  I  told  you, 
I  have  found  it  utterly  impossible  to  hold  any  communication  with 
persons  beyond  its  walls.  I  am  allowed  neither  pens  nor  paper,  thus 
writing  was  effectually  denied  me.  But  now  listen  to  me  attentively, 
and  we  may  be  able  to  overthrow  this  odious  system  of  persecution." 

"  Oh,  speak,  mademoiselle — speak,  I  beseech  you!" 

"  Is  the  father  of  M.  Agricola,  the  old  soldier  who  brought  these 
orphans  to  France,  nigh  at  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle.  Ah,  if  you  only  knew  what  a  state  of  rage 
and  despair  he  was  in,  when,  upon  his  return  home,  he  missed  the 
children  an  expiring  mother  had  bequeathed  to  his  care  ! " 

"  You  must  enjoin  him  above  all  things  to  proceed  coolly  and 
quietly,  the  least  violence  would  destroy  every  chance  of  aiding  the 
poor  girls.  Here,"  said  Adrienne,  drawing  a  ring  from  her  finger, 
"  give  him  this — he  will  go  instantly — but,  tell  me,  are  you  quite  sure 
you  can  recollect  a  name  and  address  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes — yes,  mademoiselle,  indeed  I  can;  Agricola  only  told 
me  your  name  and  residence  once,  but  I  never  forgot  it — oh,  no,  the 
heart  never  forgets  ! " 

"  Enough,  my  good  girl ;  then  remember  the  name  of  Count  de 
Montbron." 

"  Count  de  Montbron  ;  I  shall  easily  recollect  it." 

"  He  is  one  of  my  best  and  oldest  friends,  and  lives  in  the  Place 
Vendome,  No.  7." 

"  No.  7  Place  Vendome ;  I  shall  be  quite  sure  to  recollect  the 
address  as  well  as  the  name." 

"  Let  M.  Agricola's  father  go  there  this  evening,  and  if  the  count 
be  not  at  home  he  will  await  his  return  ;  then,  let  him  request  to  see 
M.  de  Montbron  in  my  name,  sending  him  this  ring  as  a  warranty  for 
the  truth  of  what  he  advances  ;  once  in  the  presence  of  the  count,  bid 
him  relate  all  he  knows — the  carrying  of  the  orphans,  with  the  name 
of  the  convent  where  they  are  now  confined.  He  may  likewise  state 
the  fact  of  my  being  kept  under  restraint,  under  a  false  charge  of 
madness,  in  one  of  the  asylums  for  lunatics  belonging  to  Doctor  Ba- 
leinier.  M.  de  Montbron  will  not  refuse  credence  to  this  account,  for 
truth  has  a  powerful  voice  ;  he  is  besides  a  man  of  infinite  talent  and 
much  experience,  besides  which  he  possesses  powerful  influence,  and,  I 
feel  assured,  will  lose  not  an  instant  in  taking  the  necessary  steps  in 
the  affair,  so  that,  I  doubt  not,  but  that  by  to-morrow  or  the  following 
day,  both  myself  and  the  poor  girls  will  be  liberated  ;  that  effected, 
thanks  to  you  —  but  the  moments  are  precious,  we  may  be  surprised 
—  hasten  then,  my  dear  child,  to  commence  the  work  which  shall 
restore  three  unhappy  captives  to  liberty  and  happiness." 

Then,  as  she  was  about  to  withdraw  from  the  gate,  Adrienne  said, 
with  a  smile  so  winning,  and  an  accent  so  filled  with  affectionate  sin- 
cerity, that  it  thrilled  to  the  sensitive  heart  of  the  poor  sempstress, — 

"  M.  Agricola  told  me  that  the  goodness  of  my  heart  equalled 


THE     INTERVIEW. 


LA  MAYEUX  AND  MADEMOISELLE  DE  CARDOVILLE.  439 

yours.  Now  I  can  fully  appreciate  the  full  value  of  the  comparison, 
and  the  flattering  compliment  it  implied.  I  pray  you  give  me  your 
hand,  but  quickly,"  continued  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  while  tears 
of  deep  feeling  suffused  her  eyes.  Then  passing  her  beautiful  hand 
through  the  rails  of  the  gate,  she  extended  it  to  La  Mayeux. 

Both  the  words  and  actions  of  the  lovely  patrician  were  impressed 
with  so  sincere  and  genuine  a  warmth,  that  the  poor  sempstress 
hesitated  not  to  place  her  long  thin  fingers  in  the  delicate  rosy  palm 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  who,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  pious 
respect,  lifted  the  meagre  hand  to  her  lips,  saying, — 

"  Since  I  cannot  embrace  you  as  the  sister  who  has  saved  and 
preserved  me,  let  me  at  least  kiss  this  hand  ennobled  by  honest  labour." 

At  this  instant  steps  were  heard  in  the  garden  belonging  to  Doctor 
Bale*inier,  Adrienne  started  suddenly,  and,  gliding  behind  the  thick 
shrubs,  said  as  she  disappeared, — 

"  Courage,  Memory,  and  Hope  ! " 

All  this  had  passed  so  rapidly  that  the  young  workwoman  had 
neither  spoken  nor  moved  while  tears,  tears  of  the  purest  joy  flowed 
abundantly  down  her  pale  cheeks. 

That  a  creature  so  superior  as  Adrienne  de  Cardoville  should  call 
her  by  the  endearing  name  of  sister,  should  deign  to  touch  her  hand, 
nay  more,  press  it  to  her  lips,  and  even  style  herself  flattered  by  a 
comparison  with  one  dwelling  in  the  very  abyss  of  misery  and 
wretchedness,  bespoke  a  divine  feeling  of  equality  almost  resembling 
the  words  of  Holy  Writ. 

There  are  certain  words  and  impressions  capable  of  atoning  to 
some  minds  for  years  of  past  sufferings,  and  with  a  passing  glance, 
rapid  as  the  lightning's  flash,  reveal  to  the  soul  the  depth  of  its  own 
greatness.  So  was  it  with  La  Mayeux,  who,  thanks  to  the  conde- 
scending and  generous  expression  addressed  to  her,  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  seemed  aware  of  her  own  real  worth  ;  and,  although  this  con- 
sciousness was  as  fleeting  as  delightful,  yet  it  induced  the  poor  girl  to 
raise  her  eyes  and  hands  to  heaven  with  an  expression  of  unutterable 
gratitude  and  happiness ;  for,  if  the  young  sempstress  did  not  regularly 
piactise  (pratif/tter)  to  adopt  the  language  of  religious  cant,  no  one 
was  more  deeply  imbued  than  La  Mayeux  with  that  feeling  of  deep 
and  reverential  religion,  which  is  to  the  mere  formalist  and  lip-deep 
professor,  as  the  immensity  of  the  blue  vault  of  heaven  to  the  curved 

ceiling  of  a  church. 

****** 

Five  minutes  after  her  interview  with  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville, 
La  Mayeux  had  quitted  the  garden  unperceived  by  any  one,  and, 
returning  by  the  road  she  had  come,  remounted  the  stairs  to  the  first- 
floor  where  was  situated  the  workroom,  and  gently  knocked  at  the 
door,  which  was  opened  by  one  of  the  sisters  of  Sainte-Marie. 

"  Is  not  Mademoiselle  Florine,  with  whom  I  came,  here,  good 
sister  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  No  ;  she  could  not  possibly  wait  any  longer.  You  come,  doubt- 
less, from  our  holy  mother  the  superior,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes — yes,  good  sister,"  replied  the  sempstress,  casting  down  her 
eyes.  "  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me  by  which  way  I  can 
go  hence?" 


440  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Come  with  mo,  I  will  shew  you." 

La  Mayeux  followed  the  sister  in  trembling  apprehension  of 
meeting  the  superior,  who  might  with  reason  be  surprised  at  her  being 
still  within  the  convent,  and  inquire  the  reason  of  it.  At  length,  to 
her  great  joy  the  nun,  having  conducted  her  to  the  first  entrance, 
opened  the  door,  through  which  La  Mayeux  hastily  passed,  and  with 
considerable  delight  heard  it  closed  behind  her. 

Rapidly  crossing  the  large  court,  she  was  hurrying  on  towards  the 
porter's  lodge,  with  the  intention  of  asking  him  to  open  the  outer  gate, 
when  she  heard  a  rough  voice  say, — 

"  It  seems  we  are  to  keep  a  double  watch  to-night — eh,  Jerome  ? 
For  my  part,  I  mean  to  double -load  my  gun.  The  holy  Mother 
Sainte-Perpetue  has  given  orders  to  go  twice  round  the  premises 
to-night  instead  of  once." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Nicolas,"  replied  a  second  voice,  "  I  mean  to  do ; 
I  have  sharpened  my  scythe  on  purpose — it  would  cut  through  a  stone 
wall — and  I  have  turned  the  sharp  edge  outside,  so  that  will  be  better 
than  any  gun  ;  besides  that  is  a  gardener's  weapon,  he  knows  better 
how  to  use  it  than  any  other,  and  I'll  be  bound  there's  ne'er  a  thief 
would  venture  to  come  a-nigh  it." 

Feeling  an  involuntary  terror  at  words  she  had  not  sought  to  hear, 
La  Mayeux  approached  the  porter's  lodge  and  asked  to  be  let  out. 

"  Hollo  !  where  do  you  come  from  ?  "  said  the  porter,  putting  his 
head  out  of  the  lodge,  and  busily  employed  loading  a  double-barrelled 
gun,  while  he  surveyed  the  young  sempstress  with  a  suspicious  glance. 

"  I  have  been  speaking  with  the  superior,"  replied  La  Mayeux, 
timidly. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  said  Nicolas,  roughly;  "because  you 
look  to  me  very  like  a  rum  customer ;  however,  that'll  do,  now  be  off 
with  you,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

The  gate  was  opened,  and  La  Mayeux  darted  into  the  street ;  but 
scarcely  had  she  entered  than  she  saw  Kill-joy  running  towards  her, 
while  a  little  way  otf  was  Dagobert,  also  hurrying  to  meet  her. 

Delighted  at  this  opportune  rencontre,  La  Mayeux  was  hastening 
to  him,  when  a  full  clear  voice  exclaimed  from"  a  distance,  "  Ah,  my 
good  Mayeux ! " 

The  young  needlewoman  turned  hastily  round  and  beheld  Agricola 
running  with  all  speed,  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in  which  his 
father  was  advancing. 


CHAPTER   LXIII. 

THE    RENCOUNTERS. 


AT  (he  unexpected  appearance  of  Dagoberl  and  Agricola,  the  very 
persons  she  most  wished  to  see,  La  Mayeux  remained  standing  a 
few  steps  from  the  gate  of  the  convent  in  utter  amazement. 

The  soldier  had  not  yet  perceived  the  young  workwoman  ;  he  was 
hurrying   along   after  Kill-joy,   M'ho,  although    thin,  gaunt-lookiug, 


THE  RENCOUNTERS.  441 

rough,  and  dirty,  seemed  to  bound  with  delight  as  turning  his  intelli- 
gent head  from  time  to  time  to  see  whether  his  master  was  in  sight, 
lie  returned  to  meet  him,  after  having  sufficiently  caressed  La 
Mayeux. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  my  old  fellow  ! "  cried  the  soldier,  with  emotion,  "  I 
understand  you ;  you  have  been  more  faithful  to  your  trust  than  I 
have,  you  have  not  abandoned  the  poor  things, — no,  not  for  an  instant 
have  you  quitted  the  door  by  which  you  saw  them  enter ;  you  have 
followed  them,  kept  watch  here  night  and  day,  without  food  or  shelter, 
and,  wearied  at  last  with  expecting  their  return,  have  come  to  me  to 
fetch  me  to  their  aid  !  Yes,  while  I  was  furious  with  rage  and  de- 
spair, you  were  doing  what  I  ought  to  have  done, — you  discovered 
their  hiding-place !  and  that  proves  over  and  over  again,  what  every 
one  knows,  that  beasts  are  better  and  wiser  than  men.  Ah  !  my  old 
Kill-joy — my  noble  dog  !  we  shall  soon  see  the  dear  children  again, 
thanks  to  you !  And  when  I  remember,  too,  that  to-morrow  will  be 
the  great  day,  the  important  13th  of  February,  and  that  without  you, 
my  tine  fellow,  all  would  have  been  lost,  I  tremble  from  head  to  foot 
at  the  bare  idea !  Now,  then,  my  beauty,  are  we  almost  there?  What 
a  lonely,  deserted  spot !  and  night  coming  on,  too  ! " 

Dagobert  had  continued  to  hold  this  discourse  with  Kill-joy  whilst 
attentively  observing  every  motion  of  the  animal,  who  kept  trotting 
on  at  a  rapid  pace,  followed  by  the  soldier ;  when,  seeing  the  faithful 
beast  bound  away  from  him  as  if  joyfully  recognising  some  person,  he 
raised  his  head,  and  perceived  Kill-joy  loading  with  caresses  both  La 
Mayeux  and  Agricola,  who  had  just  met  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
gate  of  the  convent. 

"  La  Mayeux  !"  exclaimed  both  father  and  son,  at  the  sight  of  the 
young  girl,  and  gazing  at  her  with  inexpressible  surprise,  "  why  what 
brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  M.  Dagobert,"  replied  she,  with  a  glow  of  indescribable 
happiness,  "  I  have  such  good  news  for  you — Rose  and  Blanche  are 
found!"  Then  turning  to  the  young  smith,  she  added,  "Ah!  and 
happy  tidings  for  you,  too,  Agricola;  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  is 
no  more  mad  than  either  you  or  I  are,  I  have  just  seen  her  I" 

"Not  mad!"  cried  the  smith;  "thank  Heaven!  oh!  how  de- 
lighted I  am  to  hear  it ! " 

"  But  the  dear  children  ? "  interrupted  Dagobert,  eagerly,  and 
pressing  in  his  large  hands  the  thin  fingers  of  La  Mayeux ;  "  have  you 
seen  them  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  a  little  while  ago  they  seemed  very  sad  and  disconso- 
late, but  I  was  not  able  to  speak  to  them." 

"  Ah ! "  murmured  Dagobert,  as  though  choking  with  the  con- 
flicting emotions  called  up  by  this  intelligence,  and  pressing  both  his 
hands  on  his  breast,  as  though  to  still  the  throbbing  pain  he  experi- 
enced. "I  did  not  think  my  old  heart  could  beat  so  hard.  Still,  thanks 
to  my  good  faithful  dog  here,  I  felt  almost  assured  the  dear  girls  were 
not  far  off;  but,  for  all  that,  the  joy — the  delight — seems  too  much 
for  me." 

"  My  dear,  worthy  father,  you  see  every  thing  promises  well," 
said  Agricola,  looking  with  a  grateful  smile  at  the  young  sempstress. 

"  Come  to  my  arms !  my  dear,  ray  excellent  child ! "  cried  the 


442  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

soldier,  embracing  La  Mayeux,  with  vehement  fondness;  then,  as 
though  quite  unable  longer  to  restrain  his  impatience,  he  added, 
"  but  come,  let  us  go  for  the  poor  dear  children  without  further 
delay." 

"  My  dear  Mayeux ! "  exclaimed  Agricola,  much  excited ;  "  you 
have,  possibly,  restored  not  only  the  peace  of  my  father's  mind,  but 
preserved  his  very  life.  And  about  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  ?  how 
did  you  find  her  out  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  by  the  merest  chance ! — And  how  did  it  happen  that  you 
arrived  here  just  as  I  did  ?  " 

"Look!"  said  Dagobert,  who  had  precipitately  advanced  a  few 
steps,  "  Kill-joy  stops  and  barks  I " 

And,  in  effect,  the  dog,  equally  anxious  as  his  master  to  see  the 
orphans  again,  but  better  informed  as  to  the  place  of  their  retreat, 
had  stationed  himself  at  the  gate  of  the  convent,  and  commenced  a 
series  of  loud  significant  barkings  to  attract  the  notice  of  Dagobert, 
who,  perfectly  comprehending  the  dog's  meaning,  made  a  significant 
sign  to  La  Mayeux,  saying, — • 

"  The  children  are  there  I " 

"I  know  it,  M.  Dagobert, — they  are  !" 

"I  was  sure  of  it ! — good  dog  ! — capital  fellow  !  Oh,  yes,  animals 
are  wiser  than  men,  and  more  to  be  depended  on  ;  always  excepting 
you,  my  dear  excellent  little  Mayeux,  who  are  worth  more  than  all 
the  men  and  beasts  in  the  world.  But  now  my  troubles  will  soon  be 
ended,  my  darlings.  I  shall  soon  see  you  again — soon  have  you  in 
these  old  arms — nobody  shall  ever  persuade  me  to  leave  you  again ! 
Come !  come  ! — I  am  on  thorns  till  I  reach  the  spot  where  the  dear 
girls  are !" 

So  saying,  spite  of  his  age,  Dagobert  hastened  towards  Kill-joy. 

"  Agricola ! "  cried  La  Mayeux,  "  for  Heaven's  sake  prevent  your 
father  from  knocking  at  this  gate  ;  all  is  lost  if  he  does." 

At  two  bounds  the  active  young  man  was  beside  his  father,  at 
the  very  instant  he  had  extended  his  hand  to  grasp  the  knocker. 

"  Father  !  father ! "  exclaimed  the  young  smith,  powerfully  seizing 
his  arm,  "  let  go  that  knocker,  if  you  wish  to  recover  your  lost 
charges,  beware  of  making  the  least  noise." 

"  In  the  devil's  name,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"La  Mayeux  has  just  begged  me  to  assure  you  that  if  once  you 
knock  at  that  door,  all  is  lost." 

"  But  how  ?  " 

"  She  will  explain  it." 

And  at  this  moment,  the  poor  girl,  who,  less  agile  than  Agricola, 
could  not,  with  all  her  efforts,  reach  Dagoberl  sooner,  advanced  and 
said, — 

"  M.  Dagobert,  I  beseech  you  not  to  remain  standing  by  this  gate, 
some  one  might  open  it,  and  then  we  should  be  seen  ;  and  most 
certainly  our  being  here  would  excite  great  suspicions ;  let  us  rather 
go  along  by  this  wall." 

"  Suspicions  I "  said  the  veteran,  much  surprised,  but  without 
moving  an  inch  from  the  gate;  "what  suspicions?" 

"I  pray — I  implore  you,  not  to  remain  there!"  persisted  La 
Mayeux,  with  so  much  earnestness,  that  Agricola,  convinced  she 


THE  RENCOUNTERS.  443 

must  hare  some  powerful  reasons  for  urging  their  removal,  joined  in 
the  request,  saying, — 

"My  dear  father,  be  assured  La  Mayeux  has  good  motives  for 
what  she  says,  let  us  do  as  she  wishes  us.  The  Boulevard  do  1'Hopital 
is  not  two  steps  from  hence,  no  one  is  likely  to  be  there,  and  we  can 
converse  without  fear  of  interruption." 

"  May  the  devil  take  me  if  I  understand  one  word  of,  all  this ! " 
cried  Dagobert,  still  obstinately  maintaining  his  post  by  the  gate. 
"  The  two  girls  are  there — well,  I  only  Avant  to  fetch  them  out,  and 
take  them  away,  that  is  not  a  five  minutes'  aflair." 

"  Indeed,  M.  Dagobert,  you  are  mistaken  I "  returned  La  Mayeux, 
"it  is  a  much  more  difficult  business  than  you  expect.  But  come 
away — oh,  pray  do  !  There,  do  you  hear  ?  some  one  is  speaking  in  the. 
court-yard ! "  And,  sure  enough,  the  sound  of  a  voice,  considerably 
elevated  above  a  natural  pitch,  was  distinctly  audible. 

"  Come,  father,  come  away  at  once ! "  exclaimed  Agricola,  almost 
dragging  the  old  man  away. 

Meanwhile  Kill-joy,  as  though  surprised  at  such  continued  hesi- 
tation, began,  by  loudly  barking,  to  protest  against  so  cowardly  and 
humiliating  a  retreat,  all  the  time  resolutely  keeping  possession  of  his 
post  by  the  gate ;  however,  upon  a  signal  from  Dagobert,  he  reluc- 
tantly abandoned  his  position  and  gained  the  main  body. 

It  was  now  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  wind  blew  violently, 
while  thick,  dark  clouds,  betokening  rain,  were  rapidly  drifting  across 
the  firmament.  As  we  have  before  stated,  the  Boulevard  de  I'Hdpital, 
which  bounded  this  side  of  the  convent-garden,  was  generally  deserted. 
Dagobert,  Agricola,  and  La  Mayeux,  were  therefore  in  perfect  liberty 
to  pursue  their  council  of  war  in  undisturbed  tranquillity  in  this  lone 
spot. 

The  soldier,  who  could  ill  brook  all  these  cautious,  temporising 
measures,  the  reason  of  which  he  was  far  from  understanding,  had 
scarcely  turned  the  corner  of  the  street,  than  he  impatiently  addressed 
La  Mayeux,  saying, — 

"  Now,  then,  my  good  girl,  do  not  keep  me  longer  on  the  rack, 
but  tell  me  at  once  what  is  the  reason  of  your  bringing  me  away  from 
the  place  where  my  poor  children  are  grieving  and  pining  for  liberty  ? 
Speak  at  once,  for  I  seem  as  though  treading  on  live  coals." 

"  In  the  first  place,  M.  Dagobert,  remember  that  the  place  where 
the  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  ate  confined  is  a  convent." 

"  A  convent ! "  exclaimed  the  soldier,  as  though  bursting  with 
rage  at  this  piece  of  information ;  "  I  might  have  expected  as 
much.  Then,"  added  the  old  man,  with  a  calmer  voice,  "suppose 
it  is,  what  then  ?  I  can  take  thorn  out  of  a  convent  as  well  as  any 
other  place,  can't  I  ?  I  shall  only  go  once,  you  know — and  once  is 
nothing." 

"  But,  M.  Dagobert,  they  are  confined  there  against  their  will, 
and  against  yours  also ;  therefore  they  will  not  be  given  up  to 
you." 

"Not  given  up  to  me!  ah!  we  shall  see  about  that  though!" 
and,  suiting  the  action  to  his  tone  of  impatience,  the  soldier  turned  as 
though  going  back  to  the  convent. 

"Father!"     cried    Agricola,    detaining    him;    "one    moment's 


444  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

patience.  Pray  hear  what  La  Mayeux  has  to  say  before  you  act  so 
rashly." 

"  I  will  hear  nothing  when  the  dear  children  are  only  a  few  steps 
from  me ;  I  am  aware  of  it,  and  yet  you  think  that,  either  by  fair 
means  or  foul,  I  will  not  have  them  away.  Pardieu  !  that  is  some- 
what too  much  for  one's  patience !  — Let  me  go,  I  say  I 

"M.  Dagobert,  I  beseech  of  you  to  listen  to  me!"  cried  La 
Mayeux,  gently  holding  Dagobert  by  the  hand,  "  there  is  another  and 
a  better  way  of  releasing  these  dear  young  ladies,  and  that,  too, 
without  employing  any  violence;  for  Mademoiselle  Cardoville  told 
me  that  violence  would  ruin  every  thing,  and  destroy  all  chance  of 
success." 

"  Well,  if  there  is  any  other  way,  with  all  my  heart ;  only  make 
haste  and  tell  us  what  that  way  is." 

"  Here  is  a  ring  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville " 

"  Who  is  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  ?  " 

"  Father,  it  is  that  kind  and  generous  young  lady  who  was  to  have 
been  my  guarantee,  and  to  whom  I  have  such  important  things  to 
reveal." 

"That'll  do,  that'll  do!"  interrupted  Dagobert,  impatiently,  "we 
can  talk  about  that  by  and  by.  But  now,  my  dear  Mayeux,  go  OR — 
what  about  this  ring  ?  " 

"  You  are  to  take  it,  M.  Dagobert,  and  go  directly  with  it,  to  the 
Count  de  Montbron,  who  lives  at  No.  7  Place  Vendome ;  it  seems  he 
is  a  man  of  great  power  and  influence,  and  the  particular  friend 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville ;  by  shewing  him  this  ring,  the  count 
will  be  satisfied  you  come  from  her.  You  will  tell  him  that  she  is 
confined  under  a  false  accusation  of  madness  in  a  private  madhouse 
adjoining  this  convent,  in  which  are  also  imprisoned  the  daughters  of 
Marshal  Simon,  who  are  suffering  severely  from  being  thus  shut  up 
against  their  wills." 

"  Well,  and  then  ? — and  then  ?" 

"Why  then,  M.  de  Montbron  will  immediately  lay  the  matter 
before  high  and  influential  people,  who  will  assist  him  in  taking  the 
necessary  steps  to  restore  Mademoiselle  do  Cardoville  and  the  daugh- 
ters of  General  Simon  to  liberty,  and  most  probably  either  to-morrow 
or  the  day  after  they  will  be  free." 

"  To-morrow,  or  the  day  after !  and  only  perhaps  !"  cried  Da- 
gobert. "  But  I  tell  you  that  I  must  have  them  out  this  very  day, — 
aye,  this  very  instant.  The  day  after  to-morrow,  indeed  !  and  then 
only  a  perhaps  !  Yes,  that  would  be  a  nice  time  truly  !  Much 
obliged  to  you,  my  dear  Mayeux  ;  but  here,  take  back  your  ring.  I 
prefer  managing  matters  myself,  and  in  my  own  way.  Just  wait  there 
for  me,  my  lad,  will  you  ?" 

"Father!"  exclaimed  Agricola,  still  restraining  the  old  man,  "are 
you  mad  ?  It  is  a  convent.  Only  consider  what  you  are  about." 

"  Pshaw  !  you  are  a  mere  raw  recruit,  boy,  and  don't  understand 
these  things.  Now  I  do,  and  have  got  the  whole  system  of  convent 
tactics  at  the  end  of  my  fingers.  Bless  you  !  why  in  Spain  I  have 
practised  the  whole  thing  a  hundred  times  and  more.  This  is  what 
would  happen  if  I  went  to  this  convent  you  are  so  alarmed  about. — 
I  knock,  at  the  door,  a  man  opens  it,  asks  me  what  I  want.  I  make 


THE  RENCOUNTERS.  445 

no  answer,  he  tries  to  stop  me,  but  can't,  and  on  I  go.  Well,  once 
inside  the  convent,  I  should  call  my  children  as  loud  as  I  could,  and 
run  all  over  the  building  till  they  answered  me." 

"But  then  the  nuns,  M.  Dagobert;  think  of  them,"  said  La 
Mayeux,  still  striving  to  detain  Dagobert  with  her  weak  grasp. 

"Oh,  the  nuns  !  why,  of  course,  they  would  pursue  me,  screaming 
and  fluttering  about  like  so  many  old  magpies  roused  out  of  their 
nests.  I  know  all  about  it.  At  Seville  I  went  through  just  that  sort 
of  thing  when  I  was  fishing  out  a  young  Andalusian  girl  those 
hideous  old  beguines  had  got  into  their  clutches  and  refused  to  part 
with.  I  shall  let  the  good  sisters  scream  till  they  are  hoarse,  and 
continue  to  hunt  in  every  hole  and  corner,  calling  Rose  and  Blanche 
as  loud  as  I  can  bawl.  They  will  be  sure  to  hear  mi*  and  answer 
me ;  and  then,  if  they  are  locked  up,  I  shall  take  the  first  thing  I  can 
find  and  break  open  the  door." 

"  But,  think  of  the  nuns,  M.  Dagobert.  What  would  they  do,  do 
you  think  ?" 

"  Why,  if  they  scream  till  they  burst  their  throats,  they  will  not 
hinder  me  from  bursting  open  the  door,  taking  my  children  up  in  my 
arms,  and  making  off  with  them  as  fast  as  I  can.  If  they  refuse  to 
let  me  out,  why  1  shall  have  to  break  a  second  door  open  ;  that's  all. 
So  now,"  continued  Dagobert,  hastily  disengaging  his  hands  from 
those  of  La  Mayeux,  "just  wait  for  me  here,  and  in  ten  minutes  you 
will  see  me  back  again  with  my  dear  girls.  And  you,  my  lad,  go 
meanwhile  and  fetch  a  coach  ready  for  us  all  to  jump  into." 

More  calm  than  Dagobert,  and  infinitely  better  informed  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  penal  laws,  Agricola  could  not,  without  alarm,  contem- 
plate the  consequences  which  would  infallibly  arise  from  this  strange 
and  unusual  mode  of  proceeding  on  the  part  of  the  veteran ;  throwing 
himself  before  him,  he  again  remonstrated,  saying,— 

"  One  more  word,  I  beseech  you  !" 

"  Why,  there's  no  end  to  last  words.  But  do  make  sharp  work 
of  it ;  be  quick,  or  I  cannot  stay  to  listen." 

"  If  you  attempt  to  penetrate  into  the  convent,  you  will  ruin  every 
thing  I" " 

«  How  shall  I  ?" 

"  Because,  M.  Dagobert,  for  one  reason,  there  are  men  in  the 
convent.  I  saw  the  porter  when  I  came  out  just  now  loading  a  gun, 
and  the  gardener  was  talking  of  having  sharpened  his  scythe  expressly 
to  use  it  against  any  intruders,  and  of  the  rounds  they  were  to  take 
during  the  night  to  guard  the  premises." 

"  Bless  you  !  what  do  you  think  I  care  for  a  porter's  gun  or  a 
gardener's  scythe  ?" 

"  Never  mind  whether  you  care  for  them  or  not,  father ;  but,  listen 
to  me.  You  mean  to  knock  at  the  gate,  you  say.  Well,  and  when 
the  porter  opens  it  he  asks  you  what  you  want  ?" 

"  Well,  and  I  make  answer  that  I  wish  to  speak  to  the  superior, 
and  away  I  go  into  the  convent." 

"  But,  dear  me,  M.  Dagobert,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  you  are  not 
aware  that  after  you  have  crossed  the  outeri  court  you  approach  a 
second  door  with  a  sort  of  wicket  to  it,  and  when  any  person  rings,  a 


446  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

nun  always  examines  the  stranger  through  the  wicket,  which  is  never 
opened  until  after  the  business  has  been  disclosed." 

"  Well,  then,  I  should  pretend  I  came  to  speuk  to  the  superior." 

"  Then,  father,  as  you  are  a  stranger,  they  would  go  and  ayprise 
the  superior  of  your  being  there  and  desire  to  see  her." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  would  come." 

"And  then?" 

"  She  would  ask  you  what  you  wanted,  M.  Dagobert." 

"  Why,  of  course,  I  should  tell  it  at  once, — I  wanted  my  children." 

"Just  one  minute's  patience,  father.  You  cannot  doubt,  after  all 
the  precautions  taken  to  prevent  their  recovery  that  it  is  the  intention 
of  those  concerned  to  keep  Mesdemoiselles  Simon  in  their  power,  in 
spite  of  any  thing  either  they  or  you  can  do." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it.  I  am  quite  sure  of  it ;  and  it  was  for  that 
purpose  they  made  such  a  tool  of  your  poor  mother !" 

"  Then,  of  course,  father,  the  superior  will  affect  not  to  understand 
what  you  mean,  and  she  will  say  that  there  are  no  such  persons  as  you 
inquire  for  in  the  convent." 

"  And  I  shall  insist  that  they  are,  and  bring  forwards  La  Mayeux 
and  my  dog." 

"  The  superior  will  then  cut  short  the  conversation  by  ordering  the 
wicket  to  be  shut  in  your  face,  and  retire." 

"  Oh  I  will  she  ?  Then  I  tell  you  what  I  should  do, — very  coolly 
kick  the  door  in.  You  see  there  is  no  doing  without  that;  that 
is  sure  to  be  required.  But  now  let  me  go.  Agricola !  I  say, 
take  off  your  hands ;  you  will  drive  me  mad  if  you  go  on  this 
way." 

"  And  then  the  porter,  hearing  all  this  noise  and  violence,  would 
go  and  fetch  the  guard,  which  would  not  be  long  arriving,  and  all  your 
schemes  would  end  in  your  being  conducted  to  prison  !" 

"  And  what  would  become  of  your  poor  children  then,  M.  Dago- 
bert ?"  said  La  Mayeux. 

The  father  of  Agricola  had  too  much  good  sense  not  to  see  the  full 
force  of  the  reasons  adduced  both  by  his  son  and  La  Mayeux,  but  he 
equally  well  knew  that  at  all  risks,  and  at  any  price,  the  orphans  must 
be  set  free  before  the  following  day.  This  alternative  was  so  fearful, 
so  overwhelming,  that,  pressing  both  hands  on  his  burning  temples, 
Dagobert  sunk  upon  one  of  the  stone  benches  as  though  utterly 
paralysed  by  the  inexorable  fatality  of  his  situation. 

Agricola  and  La  Mayeux,  profoundly  touched  at  this  mute  de- 
monstration of  despair,  looked  at  each  other  in  mournful  sorrow.  The 
young  smith,  seating  himself  beside  the  soldier,  said, — 

"  Come,  come,  father,  take  courage.  Remember  what  La  Mayeux 
has  just  told  us.  Don't  you  see,  by  going  with  this  ring  to  the  in- 
fluential gentleman  she  directed  you  to,  these  young  ladies  may  be  set 
at  liberty  to-morrow ;  or  even  supposing  the  very  worst,  by  the  day 
after  to-morrow." 

"  Blood  and  thunder !"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  springing  up  from 
the  bench  and  beholding  his  son  and  La  Mayeux  with  a  look  so  wild, 
ao  desperate,  as  to  make  them  both  unconsciously  draw  back  and 


THE  RENCOUNTERS.  447 

regard  him  with  equal  surprise  and  uneasiness,  "  do  you  mean  to  drive 
me  mad  ?  "  Then,  recovering  himself  a  little,  the  old  man  said,  after 
a  long  silence,  "  Forgive  me,  my  children.  I  know  how  wrong  it  is  for 
me  to  give  way  so ;  but  then  you  don't  know  how  I  am  situated. 
What  you  say  is  right  and  reasonable ;  still  I  am  justified  in  speaking 
as  warmly  as  I  do.  Hearken,  Agricola,  you  are  a  good  and  an 
honest  lad ;  and  you,  too,  my  dear  Mayeux,  may  safely  be  trusted. 
What  I  am  about  to  say  must  never  be  breathed  to  any  one.  Why, 
do  you  suppose  I  brought  these  poor  girls  all  the  way  hither  from  the 
very  wilds  of  Siberia  but  that  they  might  be  early  to-morrow  morning 
in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois?  If  they  be  not  there,  then  have  I  broken 
my  promise, — nay,  my  oath  made  to  a  dying  mother." 

"  No.  3  Rue  Saint  Fran9ois?"  cried  Agricola,  interrupting  his 
father. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dagobert ;  "  but  how  did  you  know  the  num- 
ber?" 

"  Was  it  not  marked  on  a  bronze  medal  ?" 

"  It  was,"  replied  Dagobert,  more  and  more  astonished ;  "  but  who 
told  you  so  ?  " 

"  Father ! "  exclaimed  Agricola,  "  one  instant  more.  Let  me 
reflect  a  little.  I  think  I  can  guess  now.  Yes ;  and  you  told  me,  my 
dear  Mayeux,  did  you  not,  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  was  not 
mad  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  she  is  not ;  but  she  is  kept  in  close  confinement 
without  being  allowed  to  communicate  with  any  one,  and  she  told  me 
that  she  believed  she  was,  equally  with  the  daughters  of  General  Simon, 
the  victim  of  a  vile  conspiracy." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  exclaimed  the  smith.  "  Now  I  understand  it 
all.  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  has  an  equal  interest  witli  the 
Mesdemoiselles  Simon  in  being  to-morrow  in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois, 
and  is,  in  all  probability,  ignorant  of  it  herself." 

"  What  mean  you  ?" 

"  One  more  word,  my  dear  Mayeux,  did  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville say  that  she  had  a  powerful  motive  for  wishing  to  be  at  liberty 
to-morrow  ?" 

"  No ;  for  when  she  gave  me  the  ring  for  the  Count  de  Montbrou 
she  said,  'Thanks  to  him,  to-morrow  or  next  day  I  and  General 
Simon's  daughters  will  be  free.'" 

"  But,  pray  explain  to  me,"  said  Dagobert  to  his  son  with  impa- 
tience. 

"  Presently,"  replied  the  smith.  "  When  you  came  to  release 
me  from  the  prison,  father,  I  told  you  that  I  had  a  sacred  duty 
to  ptrfonn  and  would  afterwards  rejoin  you  at  home.  Wrell,  I 
went  to  do  something,  which  I  will  tell  you  of  directly.  I 
instantly  ran  to  the  pavilion  in  the  Rue  de  Babylone,  not 
knowing  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  was  mad,  or,  at  least, 
said  to  be  so.  A  servant  opened  the  door  and  told  me  that  this 
young  lady  had  been  attacked  with  a  sudden  n't  of  lunacy.  You  may 
suppose,  father,  what  a  blow  that  was  to  me.  I  asked  where  she  was, 
and  was  told  they  did  not  know ;  I  inquired  if  I  could  speak  to  any 
of  her  relations.  As  my  blouse  did  not  inspire  much  confidence,  I 
was  informed  that  none  of  the  family  were  in  the  house.  I  was  much 


448  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

disconcerted  when  an  idea  came  across  me,  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  She 
is  mad,  and  her  medical  man  is  sure  to  know  where  they  have  taken 
her ;  if  she  is  in  a  condition  to  understand  me,  he  will  take  im •  to 
her ;  if  not,  in  the  absence  of  her  relatives,  I  will  speak  to  her  doctor, 
a  doctor  is  often  a  friend.'  So  I  asked  the  servant  if  he  could  tell  me 
who  was  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville's  medical  attendant,  and  he  gave 
me  the  address  without  the  slightest  objection,  '  Dr.  Baleinier, 
No.  12  Rue  Taranne.'  I  Mrent  there,  but  he  had  gone  out,  and  they 
told  me  I  should  meet  with  him  about  h've  o'clock  at  his  maison  de 
sante,  which  is  close  to  the  convent.  This  will  account  for  me 
meeting  you  here." 

"But  this  medal — this  medal,"  said  M.  Dagobert,  impatiently; 
"  did  you  see  it  ?" 

"  It  was  in  consequence  of  this,  and  other  things  besides,  that  I 
wrote  to  La  Mayeux  that  I  was  anxious  to  make  some  important  dis- 
closures to  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville." 

"  And  these  disclosures  ?" 

"  Listen,  father.  I  was  going  to  her  abode  the  day  you  led  us 
to  ask  her  to  furnish  me  with  security.  I  was  followed,  and  she 
learned  the  fact  from  one  of  her  waiting-women,  and  to  save  me  from 
arrest  she  had  me  taken  to  a  secret  place  in  her  pavilion,  a  sort  of 
small  vaulted  chamber,  which  was  only  lighted  by  a  sort  of  pipe  made 
like  a  chimney.  After  a  few  moments  I  began  to  see  clearer.  Hav- 
ing nothing  better  to  do,  I  began  to-  look  about  me,  and  I  saw  the 
walls  were  covered  with  wainscoting.  The  entrance  was  made  of  a 
sliding  panel  of  iron  grooves,  which  by  means  of  counter-weights  and 
complicated  wheels  worked  admirably.  This  is  my  business  and  in- 
terested me  greatly,  and  I  began  to  examine  the  springs  with  curiosity 
in  spite  of  my  uneasiness.  I  soon  discovered  their  contrivance  and 
mode  of  working,  but  there  was  a  brass  knob  whose  use  I  could  not 
detect.  I  pulled  it  towards  me,  then  tried  to  push  it  right  and  left  in 
vain  ;  it  had  no  effect  on  any  of  the  springs.  I  said  to  myself,  this 
knob,  no  doubt,  belongs  to  some  other  piece  of  mechanism,  and  then 
the  idea  struck  me  that,  perhaps,  instead  of  drawing  it  out  I  ought  to 
push  it  inwards  forcibly.  I  did  so,  and  in  an  instant  I  heard  a  sort  of 
grinding  noise,  and  I  saw  suddenly  above  the  entrance  to  the  hiding-place 
a  panel  of  about  two  feet  square,  which  dropped  forward  from  the  wains- 
cot like  the  flap  of  a  writing-table.  This  panel  was  made  something 
like  a  box,  and  as  I  pushed  the  spring  very  sharply,  the  shake  caused 
a  small  bronze  medal  with  a  chain  affixed  fall  to  the  ground." 

"Did  you' see  the  address  on  it — Rue  Saint  Francois?"  inquired 
Dagobert. 

"  Yes,  father,  and  with  the  medal  also  fell  a  large  sealed  packet ; 
when  I  took  it  up,  I  read,  for  I  could  not  help  doing  so,  in  large 
characters,  '  For  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  She  must  attend  to 
these  papers  the  instant  they  are  placed  in  her  /lands.'  Then  under 
these  words  I  saw  the  initials  R.  and  C.,  with  a  postscript  and  this  date, 
'  Paris,  12th  November,  1830.'  I  turned  the  envelope  and  saw  it  was 
sealed  with  two  seals  with  the  same  initials  R.  and  C.,  surrounded  by 
a  coronet." 

"  And  were  the  seals  unbroken?"  asked  La  Mayeux. 
"  They  were  untouched." 


THE  RENCOUNTERS.  449 

"  Then  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  is 
ignorant  of  the  existence  of  these  papers,"  said  the  workwoman. 

"That  was  my  first  idea,  for  although  it  was  directed  that  this 
envelope  should  be  opened  without  delay,  yet,  in  spite  of  that  com- 
mand, which  was  dated  nearly  two  years  ago,  the  seals  were  un- 
broken." 

"  That  is  quite  evident,"  said  Dagobert ;  "  and  what  did  you  do 
then  ?  " 

"  I  replaced  them  in  their  place  of  concealment,  promising  myself 
to  inform  Mademoiselle  dc  Cardoville :  but  a  few  minutes  afterwards 
they  entered  the  hiding-place,  which  had  been  discovered.  As  I  did 
not  see  Mademoiselle  dc  Cardoville  again,  I  only  had  time  to  say  to 
one  of  her  waiting-women  some  words  of  ambiguous  meaning  with 
respect  to  my  discovery,  hoping  that  they  would  excite  the  curiosity 
of  their  mistress.  Then  as  soon  as  I  was  able  to  write  to  you,  my 
dear  Mayeux,  I  did  so,  begging  you  to  go  and  find  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville." 

"  But  this  medal,"  said  Dagobert,  "  is  like  that  which  General 
Simon's  daughters  possess ;  how  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  Nothing  is  more  simple,  father,  for  I  remember  now  that  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Cardoville  is  their  relation ;  she  told  me  so." 

"  She  the  relation  of  Rose  and  Blanche  ?" 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  added  La  Mayeux ;  "  she  told  me  so  just  now." 

"  Well,  then,  now,"  said  Dagobert,  looking  at  his  son  with  anguish, 
"  cannot  you  comprehend  that  I  must  have  my  children  with  me  this 
very  day  ?  Do  you  not  see,  as  their  poor  mother  said  to  me  with  her 
dying  breath,  that  a  day's  delay  will  ruin  all  ?  Do  you  not  see,  in 
facf,  that  I  cannot  quiet  myself  with  a  'perhaps  to-morrow,'  when  I 
have  come  from  the  extremity  of  Siberia  with  these  children  in  order 
to  take  them  to-morrow  to  the  Rue  Saint  Francois  ?  Do  you  not  see, 
indeed,  that  I  must  have  them  to-day,  even  if  I  should  set  the  convent 
in  flames  ?  " 

"  But,  father,  I  must  again  say  that  any  violence " 

"  But,  do  you  know  the  commissary  of  police  told  me  this 
morning  when  I  went  to  him  to  repeat  my  complaint  against  your 
poor  mother's  confessor,  that  there  was  no  proof,  and  they  could  do 
nothing  farther  ?  " 

"  But  now  there  are  proofs,  father,  or  at  least  we  know  where  the 
young  girls  are  with  certainty,  we  are  so  much  the  stronger.  Be  easy, 
the  law  is  more  powerful  than  all  the  superiors  of  all  the  convents  in 
the  world." 

"  And  the  Count  de  Montbron,  to  whom  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville begs  you  to  apply,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  must  be  a  powerful  man. 
You  will  tell  him  how  important  the  reasons  are  why  these  young 
ladies  should  be  at  liberty  this  very  night,  as  well  as  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville,  who,  you  see,  has  as  great  an  interest  in  being  at  liberty 
to-morrow ;  and  then,  certainly,  the  Count  de  Montbron  will  hasten 
the  measure  of  justice,  and  this  evening  your  children  will  be  restored 
to  you." 

"  La  Mayeux  is  right,  my  dear  father.  Go  to  the  Count,  whilst  I 
will  run  to  the  commissary  and  inform  him  that  we  now  know  where 

29  GO 


450  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

the  two  girls  are  detained  :  will  you  not,  father  ?  and  we  will  meet  at 
home,  eh  ?  " 

Dajjobert  was  lost  in  reflection,  at  length  he  said  to  Agricola, — 

"  Agreed,  I  will  follow  your  advice  ;  but  suppose  the  commissary 
says,  '  We  can  do  nothing  before  to-morrow;'  suppose  the  Count  de 
Montbron  says  the  same  thing  to  me;  do  you  think  that  I  will  re- 
main with  my  arms  folded  until  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"  Father " 

"  Enough,"  replied  the  soldier,  in  an  abrupt  tone,  "  I  understand. 
You,  my  boy,  go  to  the  commissary, — you,  Mayeux,  my  dear,  wait 
for  us  at  home.  I  will  go  to  the  Count — give  me  the  ring — what's 
the  address  ?  " 

"  Place  Vendome,  No.  7,  Count  de  Montbron.  You  come  from 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,"  said  La  Mayeux. 

"  I  have  a  good  memory."  said  the  soldier ;  "  and,  now  go  as 
quickly  as  you  can  to  Rue  Brise-Miche." 

"  Yes,  father,  and  take  courage.  You  will  see  that  the  law  defends 
and  protects  honest  people." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  because  without  that 
honest  people  would  be  obliged  to  defend  and  protect  themselves.  So 
now,  my  dears,  away,  and  we  meet  as  soon  as  possible  in  the  Rue 
Brise-Miche." 

When  Dagobert,  Agricola,  and  La  Mayeux,  separated,  the  night 
had  entirely  arrived. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 


THE  RENDEZVOUS. 

IT  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  rain  was  driving  heavily 
against  the  casements  in  the  chamber  of  Francoise  Baudoin,  Rue  Brise- 
Miche,  while  violent  gusts  of  wind  shook  the  door  and  ill-fitting  win- 
dow-frames. The  disorder  and  neglect  apparent  in  a  place  once  so 
neatly  and  carefully  kept  abundantly  proved  the  grave  and  painful 
nature  of  those  occurrences  which  had  thus  brought  confusion  and 
ruin  to  a  household  hitherto  so  peaceful  and  contented,  even  amidst 
its  poverty  and  obscurity. 

Patches  of  mud  were  trampled  into  the  floor,  while  a  thick  coat  of 
dust  covered  the  furniture,  once  shining  in  all  the  pride  of  house- 
wifery and  womanly  care.  The  bed  had  not  been  made  since  Fran9oise 
had  been  taken  away  by  the  commissary.  Dagobert  had  merely 
thrown  himself  on  it  without  undressing,  when  returning,  exhausted 
with  fatigue  and  weariness  of  spirit,  from  his  ineffectual  attempts  to 
discover  the  hiding-place  of  Rose  and  Blanche.  A  bottle  and  glass, 
with  some  morsels  of  hard  dry  bread,  standing  on  the  small  table,  bore 
testimony  to  the  frugality  and  abstemiousness  of  the  poor  soldier, 
which,  indeed,  were  indispensable  in  his  present  impoverished  condi- 


THE  RENDEZVOUS.  451 

tion, — the  only  resource  now  left  the  old  man  being  the  money  raised 
by  carrying  different  articles  to  the  Mont  de  Piet£,  whither,  at  his  de- 
sire, La  May t-ii x  had,  since  Francoise's  arrest,  carried  most  of  the  things 
she  had  before  so  unsuccessfully  attempted  to  convey  there.  Beside 
the  iron  stove,  now  cold  as  marble,  for  the  little  stock  of  wood  had 
been  long  since  exhausted,  sat  La  Mayeux,  with  a  pale  flickering  can- 
dle placed  near  her,  a  feeling  of  utter  weariness  seemed  to  have  in- 
duced a  temporary  slumber ;  for  there  she  sat,  her  head  drooping  on 
her  breast,  her  feet  resting  on  the  lower  rail  of  the  chair,  and  her  hands 
wrapped  in  her  little  cotton  apron,  while,  ever  and  anon,  the  frame  of 
the  poor  girl  seemed  to  shiver  beneath  her  drenched  garments. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  this  day  so  fatiguing  and  harassing  both  to 
body  and  mind,  La  Mayeux  had  not  tasted  food  ;  had  she  even  thought 
of  it,  or  wished  to  do  so,  she  had  not  the  smallest  morsel  of  bread 
belonging  to  her ;  and  it  was  while  anxiously  awaiting  the  return  of 
Dagobert  and  Agricola,  that  tired  nature  sunk  into  that  troubled  sleep, 
so  different  to  the  peaceful,  refreshing  slumber  of  the  light-hearted 
and  happy.  Still  too  powerfully  affected  by  the  depth  of  her  sym- 
pathy with  the  distresses  of  those  she  loved  to  be  able  long  to  forget 
them,  poor  La  Mayeux  kept  half  opening  her  eyes  from  time  to 
time,  and  sending  an  earnest,  scrutinising  gaze  round  the  room,  and 
then  again  yielding  to  an  irresistible  desire  for  repose,  letting  her  head 
fall  again  to  its  drooping  position. 

At  the  end  of  some  minutes'  silence,  broken  only  by  the  noise  of 
the  wind  and  rain,  a  slow,  heavy  tread  was  heard  on  the  landing-place, 
the  door  opened,  and  Dagobert  entered,  followed  by  Kill-joy. 

Awakening  with  a  start,  La  Mayeux  suddenly  sprang  up,  and  hur- 
rying towards  the  parent  of  Agricola  said, — 

"Well!  M.  Dagobert?  have  you  brought  good  news?  have 
you " 

The  kind-hearted  girl  paused  in  her  inquiries ;  for,  lifting  her  eyes 
towards  the  countenance  of  the  old  soldier,  as  though  preparing  to 
read  there  the  joyful  tidings  of  success  in  his  mission,  she  became 
painfully  struck  with  the  deep  gloom  impressed  on  the  weatherbeaten 
features  of  the  soldier,  who,  as  though  too  much  preoccupied  with 
his  own  sad  thoughts  to  be  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  young  work- 
woman, threw  himself  with  an  air  of  wretchedness  and  despondency 
into  a  chair,  and  covered  his  face  with  both  his  hands.  After  a  long 
continuance  in  this  meditative  attitude,  he  rose  and  said, — 

"It  must  be  so  ! — it  must  be  so  ! "  then  walking  with  hasty  strides 
about  the  room,  he  seemed  busily  seeking  something  important  to  his 
purpose.  After  attentively  examining  each  article  in  the  room,  his 
eye  caught  sight  of  a  bar  of  iron  of  about  two  feet  in  length,  used  to 
prop  open  the  top  of  the  stove  when  the  heat  became  too  great,  he 
eagerly  seized  it,  carefully  and  minutely  examined  it,  weighed  it,  and 
then,  as  if  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  scrutiny,  laid  it 
down  on  the  table. 

La  Mayeux  perplexed  at  the  prolonged  silence  of  Dagobert,  had 
followed  his  movements  with  intense  yet  timid  curiosity,  mingled  with 
uneasiness,  which  quickly  gave  place  to  terror,  when  she  saw  the  sol- 
dier take  up  his  haversack  from  a  chair  on  which  it  was  lying,  open  it. 


452  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

and  draw  forth  a  pair  of  pocket  pistols,  whose  triggers  he  carefully 
examined. 

Unable  any  longer  to  control  her  fears,  the  sempstress  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  M.  Dagobert !  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

The  soldier  looked  at  the  frightened  girl  as  though  he  only  then 
became  aware  of  her  presence,  and  said  to  her  in  a  voice  at  once  kind 
and  abrupt, — 

"  Good  evening,  my  child  !  what  is  the  time  ?  " 

"  St.  Merry's  clock  has  just  struck  eight,  M.  Dagobert." 

"  Eight  o'clock  ! "  murmured  the  soldier,  as  though  speaking  to 
himself,  "only  eight  o'clock  !"  then  placing  his  pistols  beside  the  bar 
of  iron,  he  seemed  again  lost  in  reflection,  still  gazing  round  and  round 
the  room  in  anxious  search  for  something  he  still  seemed  to  require. 

At  length  La  Mayeux  ventured  to  interrupt  him  by  saying, — 

"I  am  afraid,  M.  Dagobert,  you  have  not  very  good  news  for 
us!" 

"No!"  answered  the  soldier;  and  the  monosyllable  was  uttered 
in  a  tone  so  dry,  so  harsh,  and  so  indicative  of  a  desire  to  be  ques- 
tioned no  further,  that  the  poor,  timid  La  Mayeux  did  not  dare 
proceed  with  her  inquiries,  but  gently  and  silently  resumed  her  seat, 
while  Kill-joy  leaning  his  head  on  the  young  girl's  lap,  seemed  to  par- 
ticipate in  her  desire  to  know  what  was  going  on,  and  watched  as 
closely  and  curiously  as  she  did  every  movement  of  Dagobert,  who, 
after  another  period  of  deep  and  earnest  meditation,  approached  the 
bed,  took  off  one  of  the  sheets,  and  appeared  anxiously  to  calculate 
its  length  and  strength,  then  turning  towards  the  astonished  La 
Mayeux,  he  said, — 

"  Some  scissors." 

«  Oh,  but,  M.  Dagobert " 

"  Come,  my  good  girl — no  talking — but  do  as  I  bid  you.  Where 
are  the  scissors  ?  "  persisted  Dagobert,  in  a  tone  which,  although  per- 
fectly kind,  implied  one  used  to  prompt  and  perfect  obedience. 

The  sempstress  took  a  pair  of  scissors  from  the  work-basket  of 
Francoise,  and  presented  them  to  the  soldier. 

"  Now,  then,  my  good  girl,  hold  the  other  end  of  this  sheet,  and  be 
sure  to  hold  it  quite  tight." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  Dagobert  had  divided  the  linen 
into  four  strips,  which  he  afterwards  twisted  very  tightly  so  as  to  form 
a  kind  of  rope,  tying  them  at  intervals  with  some  tape  supplied  him 
by  the  workwoman,  so  as  to  preserve  the  tension  he  desired ;  then,  by 
fastening  these  four  pieces  securely  together,  Dagobert  constructed  a 
rope  of  at  least  twenty  feet  in  length,  but  this  did  not  appear  to  suffice 
him,  for  he  said,  as  though  talking  to  himself, — 

"  Now,  I  must  have  a  hook ! "  and  again  he  commenced  a  rigid 
search  in  every  part  of  the  room. 

Becoming  more  terrified  as  the  object  of  Dagobert's  labours 
became  apparent  to  La  Mayeux,  she  said, — 

"  But,  M.  Dagobert,  Agricola  has  not  returned  yet ;  and  I  doubt 
not  by  his  delay  he  will  bring  us  good  tidings.  I  dare  say  he  has 
waited  to  bring  you  some  good  news ! " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  soldier,  with  bitterness,  "  no  doubt — much 


THE  RENDEZVOUS.  453 

after  the  fashion  of  mine ;  but,"  continued  he,  still  pursuing  his 
search  for  the  thing  he  was  desirous  of  obtaining,  "  I  want  a  stout 
grappling-hook !  "  and  rummaging  about  in  all  directions  he  found 
one  of  the  coarse  grey  cloth  bags  Fran9oise  was  usually  employed  in 
making,  hastily  taking  it  up,  he  opened  it,  saying  to  La  Mayeux, — 

"  Now,  my  girl,  put  the  piece  of  iron  and  the  rope  in  here,  it  will 
be  more  convenient  to  carry  out  then." 

"  Surely,  M.  Dagobert,"  cried  La  Mayeux,  as  she  mechanically 
obeyed  the  orders  given,  "  you  will  not  go  before  Agricola  returns  ? 
In  all  probability  he  will  have  good  news  for  you  when  he  does 
come." 

"  Make  yourself  quite  easy,  my  child,  I  shall  certainly  wait  for  my 
boy's  coming  back — I  cannot  leave  here  before  ten  o'clock,  so  there 
will  be  plenty  of  time." 

"  Ah !  M.  Dagobert,  I  fear  you  have  lost  all  hope  !  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  full  of  hope  of  success ;  but  it  is  in 
myself  only  ! "  So  saying,  the  soldier  twisted  the  neck  of  the  bag  so 
as  to  close  it  securely,  and  then  laid  it  down  beside  his  pistols. 

"  Then,  M.  Dagobert,  you  will  at  least  await  the  arrival  of 
Agricola  ?  " 

"  Yes — I  shall  wait  for  him — till  ten  o'clock." 

"  Alas!  then,  you  are  quite  resolved — quite  determined?" 

'"  Quite  so — still  if  I  were  simple  enough  to  believe  in  presages " 

"  Sometimes,  M.  Dagobert,  warnings  are  not  to  be  disregarded — 
they  are  often  sent  by  Heaven  itself  to  turn  us  from  certain  danger,  if 
not  destruction,"  answered  La  Mayeux,  anxious  by  any  means  to 
divert  the  old  man  from  his  dangerous  undertaking. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dagobert,  "  so  say  the  old  women  ;  and  though  I  am 
not  one  likely  to  mind  their  gossiping  nonsense,  I  have  seen  that  to- 
night which  has  cut  me  to  the  heart,  and,  most  likely,  I  took  the  agita- 
tion occasioned  by  anger  for  a  presentiment." 

"  What  did  you  see,  M.  Dagobert  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  my  girl,  what  it  was ;  it  will  serve  to  pass  the  time 
away."  Then,  suddenly  breaking  off,  he  said,  "Was  not  that  the  half- 
hour  struck  just  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  M.  Dagobert ;  it  is  now  half-past  eight  o'clock." 

"  Still  another  wearisome  hour  and  a  half,  then  ! "  murmured  the 
soldier,  in  a  gloomy  tone.  Then  added,  "  Well,  I  saw  while  passing 
down  some  street,  I  forget  which,  an  enormous  red  placard ;  at  first,  I 
glanced  at  it  without  feeling  any  desire  to  know  its  contents,  but, 
looking  at  it  more  closely,  I  perceived  it  represented  a  black  panther 
devouring  a  white  horse.  At  this  sight  my  blood  boiled  in  my  veins; 
for  you  must  know,  my  dear  Mayeux,  that  it  was  a  black  panther  that 
destroyed  a  poor  old  white  horse  I  had,  the  companion  of  Kill-joy 
there,  whose  name  was  Jovial." 

At  this  once  familiar  name,  Kill-joy,  who  was  lying  extended  at 
the  feet  of  La  Mayeux,  hastily  lifted  up  his  sagacious  head,  and  gazed 
inquiringly  at  Dagobert. 

"  There  !"  said  the  soldier,  sighing  at  the  recollection  of  his  faithful 
old  steed,  —  "there,  you  see  what  good  memories  poor,  dumb  brutes 
have !  they  never  forget."  Then  addressing  his  dog,  he  said,  "  You 
remember  Jovial,  then  ?  " 


454  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

As  the  name  of  his  old  comrade  again  reached  the  ear  of  Kill-joy, 
pronounced  by  his  master  in  so  mournful  a  tone,  Kill-joy  uttered  a 
low  whining  moan,  then  by  a  faint  bark  intimated  that  he  had  by  no 
means  forgotten  his  old  friend  and  companion. 

"  Indeed,  M.  Dagobert,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  it  was  a  very  sad 
and  singular  similarity  to  find  at  the  head  of  the  placard  you  speak  of 
— a  black  panther  devouring  a  horse." 

"  Oh,  that  is  nothing  to  what  follows !  I  approached  this  placard, 
nnd  read  in  it  that  a  person  named  Morok,  just  arrived  from  Germany, 
would  exhibit  in  a  theatre  several  animals  he  had  tamed,  and  amongst 
others  a  superb  lion,  a  tiger,  and  a  black  panther  from  Java,  called  La 
Mort." 

"  Oh,  what  a  dreadful  name  ! "  said  La  Mayeux. 

"  And  it  will  appear  still  more  dreadful  to  you,  my  child,  when  I 
tell  you  that  this  was  the  very  panther  who  strangled  my  horse  near 
Leipsic,  now  four  months  ago." 

"  Oh,  how  very  shocking ! "  said  La  Mayeux  ;  "  then,  indeed,  you 
had  cause  to  shudder  at  the  sight  of  the  placard." 

"  Wait  a  little,"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  whose  features  became  still 
more  overcast,  "  that  is  not  all  I  It  was  through  this  Morok,  the 
owner  of  this  very  panther,  that  myself  and  my  poor  children  were 
thrown  into  prison  at  Leipsic." 

"  Oh,  heavens,  M.  Dagobert  I  and  this  very  man,  who  evidently 
bears  you  such  ill-will,  is  now  in  Paris  ! "  cried  La  Mayeux.  "  Oh, 
you  were  quite  right — you  must  be  very  careful — it  is,  indeed,  a  bad 
omen  ! " 

"  And  so  it  will  prove  to  that  miserable  wretch  if  he  falls  in  my 
way,  he  may  depend  upon  it,"  replied  Dagobert,  in  a  threatening  tone, 
"  for  we  have  some  old  scores  to  settle  together  the  first  opportunity." 

"  Monsieur  Dagobert,"  cried  La  Mayeux,  listening  attentively, 
"  some  one  is  hastening  upstairs ;  it  is  Agricola's  step,  I  am  certain, 
and  he  brings  good  news,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  That  will  do  my  business  nicely,"  rejoined  the  soldier,  quickly, 
without  making  any  direct  reply  to  La  Mayeux's  consoling  observ- 
ations. "  Agricola  being  a  smith  can  soon  make  me  the  iron  hook  I 
want." 

A  few  moments  after,  Agricola  entered ;  but,  alas  !  the  poor  work- 
woman discovered,  at  the  first  glance  of  the  dejected  countenance  of 
the  young  man,  the  utter  ruin  of  all  the  fond  hopes  with  which  she 
had  been  flattering  herself. 

"  Well,"  said  Dagobert  to  his  son,  in  a  tone  which  clearly  proved 
how  little  faith  he  had  in  the  success  of  the  measures  pursued  by 
Agricola,  —  "  well,  what  news  do  you  bring  ?" 

"  Oh,  father ! "  exclaimed  the  smith,  impetuously,  "  it  is  enough  to 
drive  a  man  out  of  his  senses — to  induce  him  to  knock  his  brains  out 
against  a  wall ! " 

Turning  towards  La  Mayeux,  Dagobert  said,  calmly, — 

"  There,  my  girl,  you  see  ;  I  told  you  so." 

"  But  you,  father,"  cried  Agricola,  "  have,  doubtless,  been  more 
successful — you  have  seen  the  Count  de  Montbron  ?  What  says  he  ?" 

"  The  Count  de  Montbron  quilted  Paris  three  days  ago  for  Lor- 
raine ;  so  there  are  my  good  news,"  replied  the  soldier,  with  bitter 


THE  RENDEZVOUS.  455. 

irony.  "  Now,  let  us  hear  yours;  tell  me  all  that  has  happened.  I 
want  to  be  well  assured  that  the  justice  which  you  but  a  little  while 
ago  said  protected  and  defended  honest  men,  as  frequently  as  not 
leaves  the  poor  wretch  who  trusts  to  it  in  the  clutches  of  the  rascally 
oppressors — yes,  first,  I  want  to  be  well  convinced  of  that  fact ;  and 
then  I  want  an  iron  hook,  and  I  depend  on  you  for  both  those  things." 

"  I  hardly  understand  you,  father  I " 

"  Tell  me  all  you  have  been  saying  and  doing  since  we  parted  ;  I 
have  plenty  of  time  to  listen  to  you,  it  only  struck  half-past  eight  just 
now.  Now,  then,  when  you  left  me  where  did  you  go  ?" 

"  To  the  commissary  who  took  down  your  deposition." 

"  And  what  said  he  ?  " 

"  After  having  listened  very  politely  to  all  that  I  had  to  say,  he 
replied,  '  Why,  then,  after  all,  these  young  persons  are  placed  in  a 
holy  house  of  first-rate  respectability — a  convent,  in  fact ;  there  is, 
therefore,  no  immediate  hurry  as  to  removing  them,  and,  if  there  were, 
I  cannot  take  upon  myself  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  a  religious  esta- 
blishment merely  upon  your  statement ;  to-morrow  I  will  make  the 
necessary  report  in  the  proper  quarter,  and  the  affair  will  be  taken 
into  consideration.' " 

"  There  you  see  ! "  remarked  the  soldier,  bitterly ;  "  more  puttings 
off — all  in  the  same  tale — must  wait  for  justice  1" 

"  '  But,  sir,'  replied  I,  '  this  case  admits  not  of  an  hour's  delay ; 
measures  must  be  taken  this  very  evening  to  remove  the  young  ladies 
from  the  confinement  they  are  now  kept  in  ;  for,  if  they  are  not  in  the 
Hue  Saint  Francois  by  to-morrow  morning,  the  most  incalculable  and 
irremediable  mischief  to  themselves  and  family  will  arise.'  '  I  regret 
much  it  should  so  happen,'  answered  the  commissary,  '  but  I  repeat 
that  it  is  wholly  out  of  my  power,  on  your  simple  declaration,  any 
more  than  on  that  of  your  father,  who,  no  more  than  yourself,  stands 
in  any  degree  of  relationship  to  these  young  persons,  to  commit  any 
breach  of  the  established  laws  relative  to  such  matters,  no  infraction 
on  them  would  be  permitted  even  upon  the  application  of  the  nearest 
relative  the  young  ladies  may  possess.  Justice  has  its  delays,  as  well 
as  its  formalities,  and  to  these  you  must  submit.'" 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Dagobert ;  "  submission  is  the  word,  at  the 
risk  of  being  a  traitor,  a  coward,  and  a  perfidious,  ungrateful  wretch  ! " 

"  Did  you  also  mention  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  to  the  com- 
missary ?  "  inquired  La  Mayeux. 

"  Yes;  but  his  answer  was  nearly  similar  to  the  one  I  have  just 
related.  '  It  was  a  very  serious  affair,'  he  remarked  ;  '  true,  I  deposed 
upon  oath  to  what  I  advanced,  but,  then,  I  brought  no  fact  or  proof 
to  substantiate  what  I  alleged.  You  see,'  said  he,  *  a  third  person  has 
assured  you  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  is  not  mad,  that  is  very  in- 
sufficient testimony,  because  all  insane  persons  invariably  assert  that 
they  are  in  their  right  minds  and  senses ;  certainly  I  cannot  venture 
upon  such  very  slight  grounds  to  invade  the  privacy  of  an  establish- 
ment conducted  by  so  highly  respectable  a  medical  gentleman,  never- 
theless I  will,  of  course,  receive  your  deposition,  and  lay  it  before  the 
persons  qualified  to  take  cognisance  of  it,  but,  as  I  before  said,  the 
law  must  take  its  course.'" 

"  And  when  just  now  I  wished  to  go  to  work  at  once,"  said  Dago- 


456  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

bert,  in  a  deep,  sullen  voice,  "  do  you  suppose  I  was  not  aware  of  all 
this? — and  yet  to  think  I  was  fool  enough  to  be  dissuaded  from  my 
purpose  I " 

"  Father,  I  repeat  again  that  what  you  meant  to  do  was  as  im- 
possible to  achieve  as  dangerous  to  attempt,  and  would  have  exposed 
you  to  the  most  dangerous  consequences;  you  admitted  that  yourself." 

"  So  then,"  resumed  the  soldier,  without  replying  to  his  son,  "  he 
formally  and  positively  told  you  that  it  was  impossible  in  a  legal  way 
to  obtain  the  release  of  Rose  and  Blanche  either  to-night  or  to-morrow 
morning  ?  " 

"  He  assured  me  that  the  law  could  not  be  hurried,  and  that  the 
point  would  not  be  decided  for  several  days." 

"  That  is  all  I  wanted  to  know  !"  cried  Dagobert,  rising  from  his 
chair,  and  pacing  the  chamber  with  hasty  strides. 

"  Still,"  continued  the  son,  "  I  would  not  admit  myself  conquered. 
Almost  in  despair,  yet  believing  that  justice  could  not  be  deaf  to  such 
reasonable  and  equitable  claims,  I  hastened  to  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
hoping  that,  perhaps,  I  might  find  there  some  judge  or  magistrate  who 
would  listen  to  my  complaint,  and  attend  to  it  forthwith." 

"  Well "  said  the  soldier,  stopping  short. 

"  There  I  was  told  that  the  court  closed  every  day  at  five  o'clock, 
and  opened  at  ten  next  morning.  Again  I  was  thrown  out;  but, 
remembering  the  cruel  anxiety  both  yourself  and  Mademoiselle  de  Car- 
doville  were  enduring,  I  resolved  to  make  a  third  attempt,  and  entered 
into  a  guardhouse,  where  were  a  quantity  of  soldiers,  commanded  by 
an  officer,  to  whom  I  related  the  whole  story.  He  saw  how  much  I 
was  excited,  and  the  warmth  with  which  I  expressed  myself  seemed  to 
touch  his  feelings  and  rouse  his  sympathy.  I  perceived  he  held 
lieutenant's  rank,  so  I  addressed  him  at  once. 

"  *  Lieutenant,'  said  I,  '  grant  me  one  favour,  I  beseech  of  you. 
Permit  a  subaltern  officer  and  two  of  your  men  to  accompany  me  to 
the  convent,  in  order  to  obtain  legal  admittance  there.  Let  them 
demand  to  see  the  daughters  of  General  Simon,  and  give  them  their 
choice  whether  to  remain  there  or  return  to  my  father,  who  brought 
them  from  Russia.  It  will  soon  be  seen  then  whether  they  are  in  the 
convent  by  their  own  free-will  or  not.'  " 

"  And  what  answer  did  he  make,  Agricola  ?"  asked  La  Mayeux, 
while  Dagobert,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  resumed  his  strides  up 
and  down  the  chamber. 

"  *  My  lad,'  said  he,  '  you  ask  an  impossibility.  I  can  enter  into 
your  feelings,  and  see  all  the  urgency  of  the  case ;  but  to  enter  by 
force  into  a  convent,  bless  you,  I  should  be  cashiered  for  permitting 
such  a  thing !' 

"  '  But  what  is  to  be  done  ?'  asked  I ;  '  it  is  enough  to  drive  one 
mad.' 

"  *  Upon  my  life,  I  don't  know.  I  cannot  assist  you  ;  and  perhaps 
the  best  and  safest  way  will  be  to  wait.' 

"  So,  finding  no  hopes  of  obtaining  any  thing  from  the  lieutenant, 
and  believing  that  I  had  now  done  all  that  human  means  could  effect, 
I  thought  I  had  better  return  home,  hoping  that  you  might  have  been 
more  successful  than  myself.  Unhappily,  I  was  mistaken  !  !"  And  with 
these  words  the  smith,  overcome  with  fatigue,  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 


DISCOVERIES.  457 

Profound  silence  lasted  for  some  minutes.  Agricola's  last  words 
seemed  to  have  effectually  to  have  put  an  end  to  even  the  faintest 
glimmer  of  hope,  and  the  three  persons  assembled  in  the  humble 
apartment  appeared  bowed  down  by  the  inexorable  fatality  of  their 

situation. 

««***** 

This  gloomy  silence  was  broken  by  a  fresh  incident,  calculated  to 
increase  the  gloom  and  despondency  of  the  scene. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 


DISCOVERIES. 

THE  door  which  Agricola  had  not  thought  of  fastening  was 
timidly  opened,  and  Frai^oise  Baudoin,  Dagobert's  wife,  pale,  and  almost 
fainting,  tottered  into  the  room. 

The  soldier,  Agricola,  and  La  Mayeux,  were  plunged  in  so  deep  a 
reverie,  that  the  entrance  of  Francoise  was  not  perceived  by  either ; 
but  scarcely  had  the  poor,  half-fainting  woman  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  door  than  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees,  clasped  her  hands,  and 
said,  in  a  supplicating  voice,  trembling  with  weakness,  "  Husband ! 
dear  husband !  pardon — oh  pardon  !" 

At  these  words  Agricola  and  La  Mayeux,  whose  backs  were 
towards  the  door,  suddenly  turned  round,  while  Dagobert  hastily 
looked  up. 

"  Mother !"  cried  Agricola,  running  towards  Francoise. 

"  My  wife !"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  also  rising,  and  taking  a  few 
steps  towards  the  poor  woman. 

"  Dearest  mother  !"  said  Agricola,  stooping  down  towards 
Fran9oise,  and  tenderly  embracing  her  ;  "  you  on  your  knees  !  Oh 
rise,  rise,  I  pray." 

"  No,  my  child  !"  replied  Francoise,  in  a  tone  firm,  though 
gentle,  "  I  will  not  rise  from  my  knees  till  your  father  has  pardoned 
me.  My  conduct  towards  him  has  been  very  bad ;  I  am  now,  when 
too  late,  aware  of  it." 

"  Forgive  you,  my  poor  dear  wife,"  said  the  soldier,  much  affected, 
and  approaching  Francoise ;  "  did  I  ever  lay  any  thing  to  your  charge, 
except  during  my  first  burst  of  despair  ?  No,  no ;  it  was  those  bad 
priests  I  accused,  and  I  was  right.  But  now  that  you  are  once  again 
here,"  added  he,  assisting  his  son  to  raise  Francoise,  "  why  there  is 
one  grief  the  less.  And  so  they  have  set  you  at  liberty  ?  Yesterday 
I  could  not  learn  where  you  were  taken  to.  No  one  could  inform  me 
of  the  name  of  your  prison  ;  and,  indeed,  I  was  so  beset  with  one 
heavy  care  and  the  other,  that  I  had  not  the  leisure  to  do  more  than 
to  inquire  where  you  were  to  be  found.  But  come  now,  my  dear 
wife,  and  sit  down  here." 

"  My  dearest  mother !  how  weak  and  trembling  you  are,  and  how 


458  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

very  cold  and  pale  you  seem ! "  said  Agricola,  while  tears  of  anguish 
filled  his  eyes.  "Why  did  you  not  let  us  know," added  he,  "that  we 
might  have  come  and  fetched  you  home?  But  how  you  shiver!  My 
dear  mother,  your  hands  are  cold  as  death  !"  pursued  the  young  man, 
kneeling  down  before  Francoise ;  then,  turning  to  La  Mayeux,  he 
said,  "  Light  the  fire,  and  make  it  burn  up  as  quickly  as  you  can !" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  doing  so  when  your  father  came  home,  Agri- 
cola  ;  but  there  is  neither  charcoal  nor  wood." 

"  Then  run  down,  there's  a  dear  Mayeux,  run  to  old  Loriot,  and 
ask  him  to  lend  us  some  :  he  is  too  good  to  refuse  us.  My  poor  mother 
may  be  taken  ill :  only  see  how  she  shivers  !" 

Ere  the  words  were  well  uttered,  La  Mayeux  had  disappeared ; 
the  smith  rose  from  his  kneeling  attitude,  fetched  one  of  the  blankets 
from  the  bed,  and,  returning,  wrapped  it  carefully  round  the  feet  and 
knees  of  his  mother ;  then,  again  kneeling,  he  said,  "  Place  your 
hands  in  mine,  dearest  mother !"  and,  taking  the  thin,  weak  hands  in 
his  own,  Agricola  tried  to  warm  them  with  his  breath. 

A  more  affecting  picture  could  scarcely  have  been  presented  than 
was  thus  exhibited  in  the  person  of  the  powerful  and  athletic  form  of 
the  son,  the  very  personification  of  health  and  youthful  vigour,  gazing 
with  intense  love  on  his  feeble,  pale,  and  trembling  parent,  and  striving 
by  every  delicate  attention  to  bring  back  the  warmth  to  her  pulse  and 
heart. 

While  Dagobert,  kind  and  forgiving  as  his  son,  fetched  a  pillow, 
and  offered  it  to  his  wife,  saying, — 

"  Just  lean  forward  a  little,  and  I  will  place  this  pillow  behind  you ; 
it  will  give  you  ease,  and  warm  you  at  the  same  time." 

"  How  you  are  both  spoiling  me  I "  said  Francoise,  trying  to  re- 
ward their  exertions  with  a  smile.  "  And  you,  especially,"  said  she  to 
Dagobert, — "  you  to  whom  I  have  caused  such  misery,  how  kind,  how 
good  you  are  ! " 

And,  disengaging  one  of  her  hands  from  between  those  of  her  son, 
she  took  the  hand  of  the  soldier,  on  which  she  pressed  her  eyes,  brim- 
ming with  tears ;  then  murmured,  in  a  low,  feeble  voice, — 

"  Ah !  in  my  prison  I  deeply  repented  what  I  had  done,  believe 
me!" 

The  heart  of  Agricola  was  wrung  with  pain  at  the  idea  of  his 
mother  having  been  even  temporarily  made  the  companion  of  such 
unfortunate  and  degraded  beings  as  are  to  be  found  within  the  walls 
of  a  prison.  She,  so  good,  so  free  from  sinful  thoughts,  so  pure  and 
single-minded  !  He  was  about  to  attempt  some  consolatory  words  in 
reference  to  it,  when  he  remembered  that  any  thing  he  might  say 
would  have  the  effect  of  paining  and  distressing  his  father ;  he  there- 
fore contented  himself  with  trying  to  change  the  subject,  by  saying, — 

"  And  how  is  my  dear  brother  Gabriel,  mother  ?  You  can  tell  us 
all  about  him,  since  you  have  just  seen  him." 

"  Ever  since  his  return,"  said  Francoise,  drying  her  eyes,  "  he  has 
been  quite  in  retirement,  his  superiors  having  peremptorily  forbidden 
his  going  out.  Fortunately  they  had  not  denied  him  seeing  me,  for 
his  words  and  counsels  have  opened  my  eyes,  and  taught  me  how  ill  I 
have  behaved,  though  without  knowing  it,  to  you,  my  poor,  dear 
husband ! " 


HIE    FAMILY    MEETINO. 
P     4.W. 


DISCOVERIES.  459 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Dagobert. 

"  Nay,  you  never  could  have  believed  me  capable  of  acting  as  I 
did  for  the  sake  of  giving  you  pain.  Oh,  no !  When  I  witnessed 
your  grief  and  despair  I  suffered  equally  with  yourself,  but  I  feared  to 
own  it,  lest  I  should  break  my  oath  by  so  doing ;  and  Heaven  knows 
how  truly  I  believed  it  to  be  a  matter  of  duty  and  conscience  to  adhere 
to  the  rash  promise  I  had  made,  under  a  mistaken  idea  of  consulting 
the  welfare  of  those  dear  children  !  Still  something  within  me  whis- 
pered that  it  could  never  be  my  duty  to  grieve  and  distress  you  as  I 
was  doing.  '  Alas  ! '  cried  I,  weeping  and  praying  in  my  prison,  spite 
of  the  gibes  and  jests  of  the  unfortunate  beings  who  were  my  com- 
panions, '  teach  me,  my  God,  to  discern  the  right  path  of  duty  !  How 
comes  it  that  the  commission  of  au  act,  dictated  to  me  by  a  man  so 
justly  esteemed  as  my  confessor,  and  pronounced  by  him  to  be  a  deed 
of  holy  and  virtuous  necessity,  has  brought  so  much  misery  on  myself 
and  all  belonging  to  me  ?  Oh,  then,  pity  and  guide  me,  God  of 
mercy  !  Teach  me  to  distinguish  truth  from  error,  and  enable  me  to 
repair  my  fault  if  I  have  unknowingly  done  wrong  ! '  For  some  time 
this  wish  formed  the  only  subject  of  my  constant  supplications,  till,  at 
length,  the  cry  of  the  sinner  was  heard,  and  the  whispering  of  Divine 
mercy  suggested  the  idea  of  consulting  Gabriel.  '  Thanks,  my  God  ! ' 
I  exclaimed ;  •  the  blessed  suggestion  shall  not  be  thrown  away. 
Gabriel  is  to  me  as  a  second  son ;  he  is,  moreover,  a  priest,  a  holy 
martyr,  as  I  now  know.  If  there  be  on  earth  a  creature  worthy  of 
our  imitation,  by  the  practice  of  universal  love  and  charity,  it  is 
Gabriel ;  and  the  instant  I  am  liberated  from  prison  my  first  act  shall 
be  to  go  and  consult  him,  for  he  will  clear  up  all  my  doubts !'" 

"  My  dearest  mother,"  cried  Agricola,  "  you  are  quite  right ;  that 
blessed  idea  must  have  come  to  you  from  on  high.  Gabriel  is,  indeed, 
an  angel  of  goodness, — the  purest,  noblest  creature  in  the  world,  and 
withal  the  most  courageous  and  firm.  He  is,  indeed,  a  model  of  what 
a  priest  should  be." 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  Frai^oise,"  said  Dagobert,  Mrith  bitter  emphasis, 
"  happy  would  it  have  been  for  us  all  now  had  you  never  had  any 
other  spiritual  director  than  Gabriel." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  she,  with  much  simplicity,  "  I  often  thought  of 
intrusting  my  conscience  to  his  care  before  he  went  off  upon  his 
missions.  I  should  have  felt  it  such  a  comfort  to  unburden  my  soul 
to  one  I  loved  as  a  second  son  ;  but  then,  on  the  one  hand,  I  knew  not 
how  to  break  off  with  Father  Dubois  ;  and,  on  the  other,  I  feared  that 
Gabriel  might  be  too  lenient  to  my  sins." 

"  Your  sins,  my  poor,  dear  mother  I "  exclaimed  Agricola  ;  "  why 
you  never  committed  one  in  the  course  of  your  life  !" 

"  And  what  did  Gabriel  say  to  you  ?"  inquired  the  soldier. 

"  Ah  I  my  dear  husband,  why  did  I  not  sooner  open  my  mind  to 
him  ?  What  I  told  him  respecting  the  Abbe  Dubois  roused  his  sus- 
picions. He  questioned  me,  the  dear  child  did,  on  many  points  he  had 
never  named  to  me  before.  We  exchanged  confidences  with  each 
other.  He  told  me  every  thought  he  had,  and  I  laid  bare  my  inner- 
most heart.  This  led  to  some  most  cruel  discoveries  as  to  the  trea- 
chery of  persons  we  had  hitherto  held  in  high  esteem  and  respect,  but 


460  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

whom  we  now  found  had  most  wickedly  deceived  us,  unknown  to  each 
other." 

"  In  what  manner?" 

"  My  poor  Gabriel,  under  the  seal  of  secrecy,  was  told  many 
things  stated  to  have  come  from  me ;  while  I,  also,  under  the  seal  of 
strict  secrecy,  was  also  informed  of  various  things  purporting  to  proceed 
from  him.  And  now  he  confessed  that  originally  he  never  had  felt 
any  desire  to  be  a  priest,  but  that  he  had  been  informed  that  I  con- 
sidered my  peace,  both  in  this  world  and  the  next,  depended  on  his 
taking  the  vows,  because  I  felt  certain  that  the  Lord  would  recompense 
me  for  having  given  Him  so  excellent  a  servant,  although  I  could  never 
bring  myself  to  ask  such  a  proof  of  attachment  and  regard,  notwith- 
standing the  claims  I  had  on  his  gratitude  for  having  rescued  him, 
when  a  helpless  infant,  from  perishing  in  the  streets  of  cold  and  hunger, 
and  maintaining  him  as  my  own  child  by  means  of  many  privations  and 
incessant  labour,  as  you  might  suppose.  The  poor,  dear  lad,  think- 
ing to  gratify  my  fervent  wishes,  sacrificed  himself,  and  entered  the 
seminary  he  now  belongs  to." 

"  Horrible,  indeed  I "  cried  Agricola,  almost  shuddering ;  "  what 
an  infamous  scheme !  and  for  priests  to  practise  it,  adds  even  the 
double  guilt  of  sacrilege  to  falsehood!" 

"  During  the  time  all  these  arts  were  being  practised  on  Gabriel,  a 
widely  different  language  was  held  to  me,"  continued  Fran^oise.  "  I 
was  given  to  understand  that  Gabriel  had  a  decided  vocation  for  a 
holy  life,  but  feared  to  confess  it  to  me  for  fear  of  rendering  me 
jealous  on  Agricola's  account,  who,  being  destined  to  earn  his  living 
as  a  mere  workman,  could  not  hope  to  share  the  advantages  the  priest- 
hood would  ensure  Gabriel.  Thus  when  the  dear  boy,  stifling  his  own 
regrets  and  thinking  only  of  affording  me  happiness,  asked  my  per- 
mission to  enter  the  seminary,  instead  of  trying  to  dissuade  him  from 
it,  I,  on  the  contrary,  commended  his  choice,  and  did  all  in  my  power 
to  persuade  him  to  persevere  in  his  intentions,  assuring  him  that  he 
was  acting  most  wisety,  and  that  he  made  me  truly  happy  by  the 
selection  of  a  priest's  life ;  nay,  I  even  exaggerated  the  delight,  the 
gratification  he  afforded  me,  so  fearful  was  I  of  his  believing  me 
actuated  by  any  jealousy  on  Agricola's  account." 

"  What  a  most  infamous  machination  ! "  exclaimed  Agricola,  when 
the  stupified  horror  with  which  he  had  listened  to  his  mother's  recital 
permitted  him  to  give  vent  to  his  feelings  in  words.  "  Thus,  then, 
your  mutual  love  for,  and  devotion  to,  each  other  were  turned  against 
yourselves,  and  thus  in  the  constrained  encouragement  you  bestowed 
on  his  choice  of  a  life,  poor  Gabriel  saw  but  your  delight  at  the 
realising  of  a  cherished  wish." 

"  Still,  however,  by  degrees  Gabriel  began  really  to  love  the  pro- 
fession he  had  embraced.  To  a  heart  so  good,  so  filled  with  the  purest 
benevolence,  what  office  could  have  been  more  congenial  than  to  com- 
fort the  afflicted  and  pour  balm  on  the  wounded  spirit  ?  He  seemed 
as  though  nature  had  destined  him  for  the  task  by  the  tender  zeal 
with  which  he  performed  it;  nor  would  his  lips  ever  have  referred  to 
the  past  but  for  the  conversation  of  this  morning ;  but,  as  the  truth 
came  out,  and  he  perceived  how  cruelly  we  bad  both  been  made  the 


DISCOVERIES.  461 

innocent  cause  of  pain  to  the  other,  than  he,  hitherto  so  gentle,  so 
calm  and  timid,  burst  forth  into  the  most  angry  reproaches  and  bitter 
invectives  against  a  JM.  Rodin  and  some  other  person  he  accused  as 
base  and  unworthy.  He  had  already,  he  told  me,  serious  causes  of 
complaint  against  these  two  individuals,  but  that  the  discovery  of  the 
deception  practised  upon  us  both  completed  the  measure  of  their 
offences  against  him  I " 

As  Fran9oise  uttered  these  last  words,  Dagobert  started  and  pressed 
his  hand  to  his  forehead,  as  though  trying  to  collect  his  ideas ;  for 
several  minutes  he  had  been  listening  with  profound  attention  to  this 
disclosure  of  black  treason  and  underhanded  machinations,  conducted 
with  so  skilful  yet  deep  a  villany. 

Francoise  continued, — 

"  When  at  length  I  confessed  to  Gabriel  that,  acting  by  the  advice 
of  the  Abbe  Dubois,  my  confessor,  I  had  given  to  a  stranger's  keeping 
the  children  intrusted  to  me  by  my  husband,  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon,  the  poor  boy  most  unwillingly  was  obliged  severely  to  blame 
me,  not  for  seeking  to  make  these  interesting  orphans  acquainted  with 
our  holy  religion,  but  for  not  having  previously  consulted  my  husband, 
who  was  alone  answerable  both  before  God  and  men  for  the  charge 
intrusted  to  him.  Gabriel  spoke  in  terms  of  deep  censure  of  the  con- 
duct of  M.  Dubois  in  giving  me,  as  he  said,  such  improper  and  per- 
fidious advice  ;  after  which  the  dear  child,  with  all  the  sweetness  of  an 
angel,  tried  to  console  and  comfort  me,  and  urged  me  to  return  home 
without  delay  and  relate  every  thing  to  you,  my  dear  husband.  Seeing 
how  much  I  dreaded  venturing  in  your  presence,  and  how  greatly  I 
suffered  from  distress  of  mind  at  the  recollection  of  my  bad  conduct 
towards  you,  Gabriel  deeply  lamented  being  unable  to  accompany  me ; 
but,  unhappily,  he  was  under  very  positive  orders  from  his  superiors 
not  to  quit  the  seminary  for  a  single  hour,  so  it  was  utterly  out  of  his 
power  to " 

Here  Dagobert,  who  was  evidently  suffering  under  painful  emotion, 
abruptly  interrupted  his  wife,  saying, — 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,  Francoise,  for,  in  truth,  I  lose  both  my 
memory  and  reason  in  the  midst  of  all  these  black  infamous  plots  and 
heavy  cares,  did  you  not  tell  me  that  day  the  children  were  taken 
away,  that  when  you  first  found  Gabriel  he  had  about  his  neck  a 
bronze  medal,  and  in  a  pocket  a  quantity  >of  papers  written  in  foreign 
language  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  truly,  he  had ! " 

"  And  that  you  afterwards  gave  this  medal  and  papers  into  the 
hands  of  your  confessor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  husband,  I  said  so." 

"  And  has  Gabriel  never  spoken  to  you  respecting  either  the  medal 
or  papers  since  ?  " 

"  Never  I " 

As  Agricola  listened  to  his  mother's  replies  to  the  questions  put  to 
her,  a  feeling  of  surprise  induced  him  to  exclaim, — 

"  Then  Gabriel  has  the  same  interest  as  the  daughters  of  General 
Simon  and  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  have  in  being  in  the  Rue  Saint 
Francois  to-morrow?" 

"  Most  certainly  he  has,"  said  Dagobert ;  "  and  now  I  remember, 


462  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

he  told  me  upon  my  first  arrival  here  that  he  should,  in  a  very  few 
days,  require  our  aid  and  support  in  a  matter  of  infinite  consequence." 

"  So  he  did,  father." 

"  And  now,  you  see,  he  is  kept  a  prisoner  in  the  seminary,  and  he 
told  your  mother  he  had  deep  cause  of  complaint  against  his  superiors; 
and  then  when  he  spoke  to  us  of  requiring  our  support,  he  said  it  in 
so  grave  and  sad  a  tone,  that  1  remarked  he  could  not  appear  more 
sorrowful  and  serious  if  it  related  to  some  mortal  combat  he  was  about 
to  engage  in." 

"  Ah,  father!"  replied  Agricola,  "  you  who  know  so  well  that  the 
courage  and  resolution  of  Gabriel  are  equal  to  your  own,  must  sup- 
pose then  that  the  danger  is  great  indeed  if  it  inspires  him  with  so 
great  dread  of  his  superiors." 

"  Now  then,"  said  Dagobert,  "  that  I  have  heard  your  mother's 
statement,  I  understand  all  about  it.  Gabriel  is  evidently,  like  Rose 
and  Blanche,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  your  mother,  and  possibly 
ourselves,  the  victim  of  a  dark  conspiracy  among  these  priests  to  rob 
him  of  his  rights ;  and  now  that  I  see  the  fearful  power  they  possess, 
the  unprincipled  means  they  employ,  and  their  infernal  perseverance 
in  bringing  them  to  bear,  I  own,"  said  the  soldier,  lowering  his  voice, 
"  that  1  feel  it  requires  no  ordinary  strength  to  attempt  to  struggle 
against  them.  No,  I  never  had  an  idea  of  such  power  and  wicked 
will  to  work  it  as  these  black-robed  hypocrites  possess." 

"  You  are  right,  father ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  those  wicked 
and  hypocritical  men  may  effect  as  much  harm  and  mischief  as  good 
faithful  servants  of  the  church  like  Gabriel  may  do  good.  And  I 
believe  there  is  no  enemy  so  implacably  dangerous  as  a  false,  de- 
signing, and  wicked  priest." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt ;  and  it  is  that  very  conviction  that  terrifies 
me,  for  are  not  my  poor  dear  children  helpless  in  their  hands  ?  and 
shall  I  abandon  them  without  a  struggle  ?  Are  all  the  chances  so 
completely  against  me  ?  is  there  no  hope  ?  Oh,  no,  no  !  let  me  shake 
off  this  weakness.  Yet  since  your  mother  has  laid  open  their  diaboli- 
cal schemes  and  contrivances,  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  I  feel  less 
bold,  less  resolute ;  all  this  going  on  seems  insensibly  to  strike  terror 
into  my  mind.  The  carrying  off  of  these  orphans  is  not  a  solitary  act 
of  wickedness,  but  a  ramification  of  some  vast  plot  which  surrounds 
and  threatens  us  all.  It  seems  as  though  we  were  all  walking  in  the 
dark  in  the  midst  of  venomous  serpents ;  or  as  if  blindfolded  and 
making  our  way  througli  enemies  and  surrounded  by  snares  and 
.pitfalls •— dangers  we  could  neither  combat  nor  perceive.  I  cannot 
tell  you  why,  but  I,  who  never  feared  death,  am  no  coward,  am  now 
afraid — yes,  to  my  shame  I  confess  it — afraid  of  the  almost  superna- 
tural power  of  these  black-robed  villains.  Yes,  pity  me,  despise  me, 
but  I  fear  them,  and  dare  not  oppose  them  further." 

These  words,  which  Dagobert  seemed  to  pronounce  almost  invo- 
luntarily, were  uttered  with  so  mournful,  yet  convincing  a  tone,  that 
Agricola  shuddered,  for  he  felt  that  his  own  heart  responded  but  too 
faithfully  to  them. 

And  nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  for  natures  as  open, 
energetic,  and  resolute  as  were  those  of  Dagobert  and  his  son,  who 
would  unhesitatingly  have  faced  the  greatest  dangers  that  had  pre- 


DISCOVERIES.  468 

sented  themselves  openly,  to  shrink  with  reluctance  from  encountering 
invisible  foes,  whose  blows  were  aimed  behind  the  veil  of  darkness  and 
mystery.  Many  a  time  had  Dagobert  boldly  faced  death  in  the 
battle-field  without  the  slightest  alarm,  yet  when  he  heard  his  wife 
simply,  yet  unaffectedly,  developing  the  system  of  falsehood,  deceit, 
and  treachery,  which  seemed  to  involve  the  happiness  of  all  he  loved, 
a  vague  apprehension  seized  upon  the  old  soldier,  and  a  sense  of  im- 
pending and  unavoidable  danger  seemed  to  paralyse  his  efforts  and 
chill  the  current  of  his  blood.  Not  that  he  meditated  any  change  in 
his  nocturnal  enterprise  against  the  convent,  but  that  he  now  beheld  it 
under  a  more  gloomy  and  dispiriting  point  of  view. 

The  silence  which  ensued  "was  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
La  Mayeux,  who,  aware  that  the  conversation  going  on  between 
Dagobert  and  his  family  was  not  intended  for  other  ears  than  their 
own,  tapped  gently  at  the  door,  thereby  preventing  the  entrance  of  old 
Loriot,  the  dyer,  by  whom  she  was  accompanied. 

"  May  I  come  in,  Madame  Francoise  ?"  said  the  young  girl, 
putting  her  head  in.  "  Here  is  M.  Loriot  with  some  wood  for  you." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  come  in,"  said  Agricola,  while  his  father  wiped  the 
cold  sweat  from  his  forehead. 

The  door  opened  and  admitted  old  Loriot  with  hands  and  arms 
dyed  a  rich  amaranth  colour,  carrying  in  one  hand  a  shovel-full  of 
lighted  charcoal,  and  in  the  other  a  basket  of  wood. 

"  Good  evening,  company  all  !"  said  Loriot ;  "  I  am  obliged  to 
you,  Madame  Francoise,  for  thinking  of  sending  to  me.  You  know 
quite  well  that  my  shop,  with  all  that  is  in  it,  is  most  heartily  at 
your  service ;  neighbours  should  always  help  each  other,  and  I  have 
not  forgotten  your  goodness  to  my  wife  when  she  was  alive." 

Then  giving  the  hot  coals  to  Agricola,  and  placing  the  wood  in  a 
corner  of  the  room,  the  worthy  dyer,  imagining  from  the  sorrowful  and 
preoccupied  countenances  of  the  persons  in  the  room  that  his  presence 
could  be  dispensed  with,  said,  in  a  kind  and  friendly  manner, — 

"  Is  there  any  thing  else  I  can  do  for  you,  Madame  Fran9oise  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  my  good  friend." 

"  Then  I  will  say  good  night,  company  all."  Then  addressing 
La  Mayeux,  he  said,  "  Do  not  forget  to  give  M.  Dagobert  his  letter. 
I  did  not  dare  touch  it  myself  for  fear  I  should  have  left  the  mark  of 
four  fingers  and  a  thumb  in  amaranth  colour.  Good  evening,  ladies 
and  gentlemen."  And  the  dyer  bowed  himself  with  all  the  respect  he 
knew  how  to  practise. 

"  Here,  M.  Dagobert,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  here  is  the  letter." 
Then,  having  delivered  it  into  the  old  soldier's  hands,  she  began 
to  occupy  herself  with  the  fire,  while  Agricola  brought  the  old  arm- 
chair of  his  mother  and  placed  it  before  the  stove. 

"  See  what  it  is  about,  my  lad,"  said  Dagobert  to  his  son.  "  My 
head  aches  so  I  can  scarcely  see  clearly  enough  to  read  it  for 
myself." 

Agricola  took  the  letter,  which  merely  contained  a  few  lines,  and 
read  it  through  without  even  looking  at  the  signature.  It  began : — 

"  At  Sea,  December  25, 1854. 

"  I  avail  myself  of  our  having  fallen  in  with  and  communicated 


464  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

with  a  vessel  going  direct  to  Europe  to  write  you,  my  worthy  old 
friend,  a  few  hasty  lines,  which  I  trust  may  reach  you  from  Havre 
probably  even  before  the  arrival  of  my  last  letters  from  India.  You 
are  now,  I  hope  and  believe,  in  Paris  with  my  wife  and  child.  Tell 

them I  cannot  say  what  I  had  intended,  the  boat  is  leaving. 

One  word  —  I  am  in  France.  Forget  not  the  13th  of  February;  the 
future  welfare  of  my  wife  and  child  depends  upon  it.  Adieu,  my 
excellent  friend ;  rely  upon  the  unfading  gratitude  of  yours  ever, 

«  SIMON." 

"Agricola!  Agricola !"  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  "  quick  !  look  to 
your  father !" 

At  the  first  words  of  this  letter,  rendered  by  circumstances  BO 
cruelly  apropos,  Dagobert  turned  deadly  pale,  and,  overcome  by  emo- 
tion, fatigue,  and  utter  exhaustion  of  body  and  mind,  tottered,  and 
was  about  to  fall  to  the  ground,  when  his  son  ran  to  him,  caught  him 
in  his  arms,  and  supported  him  tenderly  for  a  few  instants,  until  the 
sudden  vertigo  which  had  seized  the  old  man  passing  away,  he  raised 
his  hand  to  his  head,  pressed  the  throbbing  veins  of  his  temples,  then, 
drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  his  eyes  sparkled  and  his  weather- 
beaten  countenance  assumed  an  expression  of  unalterable  resolution, 
while  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  fierce  defiance, — 

"  No  !  I  will  be  neither  a  coward  nor  a  traitor.  All  the  black  vil- 
lains together  shall  not  affright  me,  and  this  night  Rose  and  Blanche 
Simon  shall  be  set  free  I" 


CHAPTER    LXVI. 

THE  PENAL  CODE. 

DAGOBEUT,  for  a  moment  intimidated  by  the  dark  and  sinister 
machinations  so  dangerously  prosecuted  by  the  black  gmcns,  as  he 
called  them,  against  the  persons  he  so  dearly  loved,  had,  for  an  instant, 
hesitated  as  to  his  attempt  to  deliver  Rose  and  Blanche;  but  his 
indecision  ended  as  soon  as  he  had  read  the  letter  of  Marshal  Simon, 
which  had  come  unexpectedly  to  remind  him  of  his  sacred  duties. 

The  momentary  depression  of  the  soldier  had  been  succeeded  by 
the  resolution  of  a  calm  and  collected  energy. 

"  Agricola,  what  is  the  hour?"  he  inquired  of  his  son. 

"  Nine  o'clock  has  just  struck,  father." 

"  Make  me  as  quickly  as  you  can  a  strong  iron  hook,  sufficiently 
strong  to  bear  my  weight,  and  bent  so  as  to  fit  the  coping  of  a  wall. 
This  stove  will  serve  for  forge  and  anvil,  and  you  will  find  a  hammer 
in  the  house.  As  to  the  iron,"  said  the  soldier,  hesitating,  and  looking 
about  him, — "as  to  the  iron — here,  this  will  do." 

So  saying,  the  soldier  took  a  pair  of  stout  tongs  from  the  hearth, 
and  handed  them  to  his  son,  adding,— 


THE  PENAL  CODE.  465 

"  Come,  my  lad,  blow  the  fire,  heat  the  iron,  and  forge  me  this 
hook." 

At  these  words  Fran9oise  and  Agricola  looked  at  each  other  with 
surprise.  The  smith  remained  silent  and  astonished,  not  knowing  his 
lather's  intentions,  or  the  preparations  which  he  had  already  com- 
menced by  La  Mayeux's  assistance. 

"Don't  you  hear  what  I  say,  Agricola?"  repeated  Dagobert, 
holding  the  tongs  still  in  his  hand  ;  "  you  must  make  me  a  hook  out  of 
these." 

"  A  hook,  father!    and  for  what?" 

"  To  fasten  to  the  end  of  a  rope  which  I  have  there.  You  must 
finish  it  at  one  end  with  an  eye  large  enough  for  me  to  fasten  it  to  the 
cord  securely." 

"  But  what  are  the  cord  and  hook  for  ?  " 

"  For  scaling  the  walls  of  this  convent,  if  I  cannot  get  in  by  the 
door." 

"  What  convent?  "  asked  Francoise  of  her  son. 

"  What,  father ! "  said  Agricola,  rising  hastily,  "  do  you  still  think 
of  that?" 

"  What  else  can  I  think  of?" 

"  But,  father,  it  is  impossible ;  you  will  not  surely  undertake  such 
an  enterprise  ?  " 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear?"  inquired  Francoise,  anxiously.  "Where 
does  your  father  want  to  go?" 

"  He  wants  to-night  to  get  into  the  convent  in  which  the  daughters 
of  General  Simon  are  shut  up,  and  to  carry  them  off." 

"  Oh  !  my  poor  husband  ! — why,  it  is  sacrilege  ! "  said  Francoise, 
still  clinging  to  her  pious  belief;  and,  clasping  her  hands,  she  made  an 
effort  to  rise,  and  draw  near  Dagobert. 

The  soldier,  perceiving  that  he  should  have  to  submit  to  remarks, 
prayers  of  all  sorts,  and  resolved  not  to  give  way  to  them,  resolved 
at  once  to  cut  short  these  useless  supplications,  which  would  only  make 
him  lose  precious  time ;  and,  therefore,  assuming  a  grave,  severe,  and 
almost  solemn  air,  which  proved  the  inflexibility  of  his  determination, — 

"  Listen,  wife,  and  you,  also,  my  son  !  When,  at  my  time  of  life, 
a  man  resolves  on  a  tiling,  he  knows  what  he  is  about;  and,  once 
having  decided,  neither  wife  nor  son  can  turn  him,  do  what  they  can. 
I  thus  am  resolved,  so  spare  yourselves  useless  words.  It  is  your  duty 
to  speak  to  me  as  you  do,  and,  having  fulfilled  that  duty,  do  not  say 
any  more  about  it.  This  evening  I  will  be  master." 

Francoise,  fearful  and  oppressed,  dared  not  hazard  a  word  ;  but  she 
turned  her  supplicating  looks  towards  her  son. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  one  word  only,  but  one." 

"  Say  that  one,  then,"  said  Dagobert,  impatiently. 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  overcome  your  resolution,  but  I  will  prove 
to  you  that  you  are  ignorant  of  how  far  you  are  exposing  yourself." 

"  I  am  not  ignorant  of  any  thing,"  said  the  soldier,  with  an  abrupt 
tone.  "  What  I  am  going  to  attempt  is  a  serious  matter,  but  it  shall 
never  be  said  that  I  have  neglected  any  means  by  which  it  was  possible 
to  accomplish  what  I  promised  to  effect." 

"  Take  care,  father ;  I  tell  you  once  more  you  do  not  know  the 

30  H  n 


466  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

danger  to  which  you  expose  yourself,"  said  the  smith,  with  an  air  of 
alarm. 

"  Ah  I  let  us  talk  of  danger — let  us  talk  of  the  porter's  gun  and 
the  gardener's  scythe  ! "  said  Dagobert,  shrugging  his  shoulders  dis- 
dainfully, "and  to  end  that  matter.  Well  I  What  next?  Suppose 
I  leave  my  skin  in  this  convent,  are  not  you  left  to  take  care  of  your 
mother  ?  For  twenty  years  you  have  done  without  me,  and  so  you 
will  have  the  less  to  grieve  for." 

"  And  it  is  I — oh!  Heaven  ! — it  is  I  who  am  the  cause  of  all 
these  misfortunes  ! "  exclaimed  the  poor  mother.  "  Oh  I  Gabriel  was 
right  to  blame  me." 

"  Madame  Francoise,  take  comfort,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  low 
tone,  going  close  up  to  Dagobert's  wife,  "  Agricola  will  not  allow  his 
father  to  expose  himself  in  this  manner." 

The  smith,  after  a  moment's  pause,  said,  in  an  agitated  voice, — 

"  I  know  you  too  well,  father,  to  suppose  that  I  shall  stop  you  by 
any  fear  of  the  danger  of  risking  your  life." 

"  What  danger  is  there  ?  " 

"  Another  danger  before  which  you  will  recoil, — yes,  brave  as  you 
are,  you  will  recoil !  "  said  the  young  man,  in  a  tone  of  emotion  which 
had  its  effect  on  his  father. 

"  Agricola,"  said  the  soldier,  severely  and  sternly,  "  you  speak 
offensively — you  insult  me!" 

"  Father !" 

"It  is  offensive,"  resumed  the  angry  soldier,  "for  it  is  base  to 
seek  to  turn  a  man  from  his  duty  by  frightening  him  ;  an  insult,  be- 
cause you  think  me  capable  of  being  intimidated." 

"  Ah,  M.  Dagobert,"  said  La  Mayeux,  "  you  do  not  understand 
Agricola." 

"  I  understand  him  but  too  well,"  replied  the  soldier,  sternly. 

Painfully  moved  by  the  seventy  of  his  father,  but  firm  in  his  reso- 
lution, which  was  the  dictate  of  love  and  respect,  Agricola  replied  not 
without  a  beating  heart. 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  disobey  you,  father  ;  but  if  you  should  hate  me 
for  it,  still  you  shall  know  to  what  you  expose  yourself  by  escalading 
the  walls  of  a  convent  in  the  night." 

"  Son,  dare  you  ?  "  said  Dagobert,  his  face  Hashing  with  anger. 

"  Agricola  I"  exclaimed  Francoise,  in  an  agony.     "  My  husband  ! " 

"  Monsieur  Dagobert,  pray  hear  Agricola,  who  is  only  speaking 
what  he  says  for  your  good,"  exclaimed  La  Mayeux. 

"  Not  another  word  1"  replied  the  soldier,  striking  his  foot  with 
anger. 

"  I  tell  you,  father,  that  you  are  running  an  almost  certain  risk  of 
the  galleys!"  exclaimed  the  smith,  turning  frightfully  pale. 

"  Unhappy  boy  I "  said  Dagobert,  seizing  his  son  by  the  arm. 
"  Could  you  not  have  concealed  that  from  me,  rather  than  expose  me 
by  this  to  be  a  traitor  and  a  coward  !"  Then  the  soldier  muttered  to 
himself  and  trembled,  "  The  galleys  I"  And  he  lowered  his  head  and 
became  mute  and  thoughtful,  as  though  crushed  by  these  appalling 
words. 

••  Yes,  to  enter  an  inhabited  dwelling  in  the  night  by  escalade  and 


THE  PENAL  CODE.  467 

forcible  entry — and  the  law  b  precise — is  punishable  by  the  galleys!" 
cried  Agricola,  at  the  same  time  rejoiced  and  pained  at  the  distress 
of  his  father.  "  Yes,  father,  the  galleys  if  you  are  taken  in  the  fact ; 
and  there  are  ten  chances  to  one  but  that  you  will  be,  for  Mayeux  has 
told  you  the  convent  is  guarded.  This  morning,  had  you  tried  to  have 
carried  off  the  two  young  ladies  in  open  day,  you  must  have  been  ap- 
prehended, but  then  the  attempt  made  so  openly  would  have  had  the 
character  of  frank  boldness,  which  might  have  been  made  an  excuse 
for  your  pardon  ;  but  to  introduce  yourself  at  night  by  escalade,  I  re- 
peat, is  punished  by  the  galleys.  Now  then,  father,  decide  ;  what  you 
will  do  I  will  do,  for  you  shall  not  go  alone.  Say  one  word,  and  I 
will  make  your  hook.  I  have  a  hammer  in  the  closet  and  pincers,  and 
in  an  hour  we  will  go." 

A  profound  silence  followed  the  words  of  the  smith,  a  silence  only 
interrupted  by  the  stilled  sobs  of  Fran^oise,  who  murmured  with 
despair, — 

"  Alas  I  all  this  has  happened  because  I  listened  to  the  Abb6 
Dubois." 

In  vaiu  did  La  Mayeux  attempt  to  console  Francoise,  for  she  herself 
felt  alarmed,  knowing  that  the  old  soldier  was  incapable  of  facing 
infamy,  and  that  then  Agricola  would  partake  of  his  father's  dangers. 

Dagobert,  in  spite  of  his  energetic  and  determined  character,  re- 
mained deeply  overcome.  According  to  his  military  habits,  he  had 
only  seen  in  his  nocturnal  enterprise  a  sort  of  a  ruse  de  gnerre,  author- 
ised, in  the  first  instance,  by  his  rights,  and,  in  the  next,  by  the 
unyielding  fatality  of  his  position.  But  the  fearful  statement  of  his 
son  had  revealed  the  truth  to  him,  the  terrible  alternative  ;  and  he 
must  either  betray  the  confidence  of  Marshal  Simon  and  the  last 
wishes  of  the  mother  of  the  orphan  girls,  or  else  expose  himself,  and 
more  particularly  his  son,  to  the  chance  of  frightful  disgrace.  His 
son  !  and  even  then  without  the  certainty  of  freeing  the  two  girls. 

Suddenly  Francoise,  drying  her  eyes,  which  were  overflowing  with 
tears,  exclaimed,  as  though  struck  with  sudden  inspiration, — 

"  But,  now  I  reflect,  there  is  a  mode  by  which  we  may  get  the 
children  out  of  the  convent  without  violence." 

"  How,  mother  ?  "  asked  Agricola,  quickly. 

"  It  was  the  Abbe  Dubois  who  took  them  there,  but  after  what 
Gabriel  told  me,  it  is  probable  that  my  confessor  only  acted  by  the 
instruction  of  M.  Rodin." 

"  And  if  it  were  so,  my  dear  mother,  it  would  be  useless  to  address 
M.  Rodin  ;  you  could  get  nothing  from  him." 

"  No,  not  from  him  ;  but,  perhaps,  from  that  powerful  abbe  who  is 
Gabriel's  superior,  and  has  always  protected  him  since  he  entered  the 
seminary." 

"  What  abbe,  mother?" 

"  The  Abbe  d' Aigrigny." 

"Who,  before  he  was  a  priest,  my  dear  mother,  was  a  soldier,  and 
might,  therefore,  be  more  accessible.  But  yet " 

"  D'Aigrigny  !"  exclaimed  Dagobert,  with  an  expression  of  horror 
and  detestation.  "  Is  then;  mixed  up  in  all  this  treachery  a  man  who, 
before  he  was  a  priest,  was  a  soldier,  and  whose  name  is  d' Aigrigny  ?" 


468  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Yes,  father,  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  who,  before  the  Restoration, 
served  in  Russia,  and  in  1815  the  Bourbons  gave  him  a  regiment." 

"  Tis  he  I "  said  Dagobert,  in  a  repressed  tone.  "  Still  he  !  always 
he  I  like  an  evil  demon,  whether  it  concerns  the  mother,  the  father,  or 
the  children  I" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  father  ?" 

"  The  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  I"  exclaimed  Dagobert.  "  Do  you 
know  who  the  man  is  ?  Before  he  was  a  priest  he  was  the  persecutor 
of  the  mother  of  Rose  and  Blanche,  who  despised  his  love.  Before  he 
was  a  priest  he  fought  against  his  country,  and  twice  he  met  General 
Simon  face  to  face  in  battle.  Yes,  whilst  the  general  was  a  prisoner 
at  Leipsic  and  severely  wounded  at  Waterloo,  the  other,  the  renegade 
marquis,  was  triumphing  with  the  Russians  and  English.  Under  the 
Bourbons,  the  renegade,  covered  with  honours,  again  found  himself 
confronted  by  the  persecuted  soldier  of  the  empire.  Then  there  was 
a  deadly  duel  between  them,  and  the  marquis  was  wounded;  but 
General  Simon,  proscribed  and  sentenced  to  death,  was  exiled.  Now 
the  renegade  has  turned  priest,  you  tell  me.  Well,  then,  now  I  am 
certain  that  it  is  he  who  has  carried  off  Rose  and  Blanche,  that  he  may 
vent  on  them  the  hatred  which  he  has  always  entertained  against  their 
mother  and  father.  This  wretch,  d'Aigrigny,  holds  them  in  his 
power ;  and  it  is  not  only  the  fortune,  but  the  lives,  of  these  children 
that  I  have  to  defend.  Their  lives,  I  tell  you — their  very  lives  I" 

"  Father,  da  you  think  this  man  capable  of " 

"  A  traitor  to  his  country,  who  becomes  a  base  priest,  is  capable 
of  any  thing  I  I  tell  you,  that,  perhaps,  at  this  very  hour  they  are 
killing  these  children  by  inches  ! "  said  the  soldier,  in  agonised  tones ; 
"  for  the  separation  of  one  from  the  other  is  the  first  step  towards 
killing  them  ! "  Then  Dagobert  added,  with  a  tone  of  exasperation 
impossible  to  describe,  "  The  daughters  of  Marshal  Simon  are  in  the 
power  of  the  Marquis  d'Aigrigny  and  his  hand,  and  shall  I  hesitate  to 
save  them  for  fear  of  the  galleys — the  galleys?"  he  added,  with  a 
burst  of  convulsive  laughter.  "  Wliat  is  that  to  me  ?  what  care  I  for 
the  galleys  ?  do  they  put  your  dead  body  there  ?  And  if  I  fail  in  this 
last  attempt,  shall  I  not  have  a  right  to  blow  out  my  brains  ?  Put  the 
iron  in  the  fire,  my  lad.  QuickTime  presses  I  forge — forge  the  iron!" 

"  But  your  son  will  go  with  you  !"  exclaimed  Francoise,  with  a 
cry  of  maternal  despair.  Then  rising,  she  threw  herself  at  Dagobert's 
feet,  saying,  "  If  you  are  apprehended,  so  will  he  be  also " 

"  To  save  himself  from  the  galleys,  he  will  do  as  I  do.  I  have  two 
pistols  ! " 

"  But  I,"  exclaimed  the  unhappy  mother,  clasping  her  hands  in  an 
attitude  of  entreaty,  "  without  you,  without  him,  what  shall  I  do  ? 
what  will  become  of  me  ?" 

"  You  are  right — I  am  selfish — I  will  go  alone !"  said  Dagobert. 

"  You  shall  not  go  alone,  father ! "  replied  Agricola. 

"  But  your  mother?" 

"  La  Mayeux  knows  what  is  going  on,  and  will  go  and  seek  M. 

Hardy,  my  employer,  and  tell  him  all ;  he  is  the  most  generous  of  men, 

and  will  give  my  mother  bread  and  a  shelter  for  the  rest  of  her  days ! " 

"  And  it  is  I — I  who  am  the  cause  of  all  this!"  she  exclaimed, 


THE  PENAL  CODE.  469 

wringing  her  hands  in  despair.  "  Punish  me,  mon  Dieu  !  punish  me  ! 
it  is  ray  fault ;  I  gave  up  the  children,  and  shall  be  punished  by  the 
death  of  my  own  son  I " 

"  Agricola,  you  shall  not  follow  me  !  I  forbid  it ! "  said  Dagobert, 
pressing  his  son  to  his  heart  with  fervour. 

"  What  I,  after  pointing  out  the  danger  to  you,  shall  I  recoil  my- 
self? Do  not  think  of  it,  father!  Have  I  not  also  some  one  to  free? 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  so  good,  so  generous,  who  sought  to  save 
me  from  prison,  is  she  not  now  a  prisoner?  I  will  follow  you,  father ! 
it  is  my  right,  my  duty,  my  determination  ! " 

So  saying,  Agricola  put  into  the  burning  coals  in  the  stove  the 
tongs  to  be  forged  into  a  hook. 

"  Alas  !  Heaven  have  pity  on  us  ! "  said  the  unhappy  mother, 
sobbing,  and  still  kneeling,  whilst  the  soldier  seemed  contending 
against  a  violent  internal  struggle. 

"  Do  not  weep  so,  dear  mother,  pray  do  not ! "  said  Agricola, 
raising  Francoise,  with  the  help  of  La  Mayeux  ;  "  you  break  my  heart 
to  see  you  grieve  so  much.  Come,  take  courage,  I  have  no  doubt 
exaggerated  the  dangers  of  the  enterprise ;  but  if  we  both  work  well 
together,  I  really  think  we  may  succeed  with  very  little  risk  —  eh, 
father?"  continued  Agricola,  making  a  significant  gesture  to  Dago- 
bert. "  But  only  look  up  and  be  of  good  heart,  and  I  will  promise 
you  all  will  end  well,  and  both  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  and  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon  be  restored  to  liberty.  Here,  La  Mayeux, 
give  me  the  hammer  and  pincers  out  of  that  closet." 

The  poor  girl,  hastily  drying  her  tears,  obeyed  the  orders  of  Agri- 
cola  without  a  word,  while  he,  taking  the  bellows,  began  to  increase 
the  heat  of  the  fire  in  which  he  had  placed  the  tongs. 

"  Here  they  are,  Agricola,"  said  La  Mayeux,  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  emotion,  while  she  gave,  with  unsteady  hands,  the  different  ob- 
jects demanded  to  the  young  smith,  who,  by  the  aid  of  the  pincers, 
drew  from  the  fire  the  tongs,  brought  to  a  white  heat,  which  he  began 
forming  into  a  species  of  hook  by  the  help  of  his  hammer,  using  the 
top  of  his  stove  for  an  anvil,  Dagobert  looking  on  in  solemn  silence. 
All  at  once  he  took  the  hands  of  Francoise,  saying, — 

"  Wife,  you  know  too  well  the  disposition  of  our  son  to  hope  to 
turn  him  from  his  purpose  of  accompanying  me  ;  but  be  comforted,  I 
hope  and  believe  we  shall  succeed  ;  but  if  not,  if  we  fail,  should  Agricola 

and  myself  be  arrested,  why  then But,  no,  we  will  be  no  cowardly 

suicides,  the  father  and  son  will  walk  arm-in-arm  to  prison,  with  calm 
aspect  and  all  the  pride  of  men  who  have  done  their  duty  even  to  the 
very  last  effort  they  could  make  ;  and  when  the  day  of  our  trial  arrives, 
we  will  boldly  and  fearlessly  tell  the  whole  truth ;  we  will  state  the 
fearful  emergency  which  impelled  us  to  obtain  that  by  violence  we  had 
vainly  supplicated  from  the  assistance  of  the  law.  Work,  work,  my 
boy  ! "  continued  Dagobert  to  his  son,  who  was  busily  engaged  weld- 
ing the  hot  iron  ;  "  work  on  without  fear  or  dread,  we  shall  have 
honest  men  for  our  judges,  and,  therefore,  need  we  fear  nothing ! " 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  brave  father !  so  comfort  yourself, 
dearest  mother,  good  and  enlightened  judges  will  readily  discern  the 
difference  there  is  between  robbers  who  scale  walFs  during  the  night 
for  the  sake  of  plunder,  and  an  old  soldier  and  his  son  who,  at  the 


470  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

peril  of  their  lives,  their  liberty,  and  reputation,  seek  only  to  deliver 
the  innocent  victims  of  treachery  and  oppression  I" 

"  And  should  they  not  see  the  justice  of  our  defence,"  resumed 
Dagobert,  "  so  much  the  worse  for  them.  In  the  eyes  of  all  honour- 
able men,  at  least,  your  husband  and  child  will  be  held  blameless ;  or, 
should  we  be  sentenced  to  the  galleys,  why  then,  if  we  have  courage 
to  live,  why  the  old  and  the  young  convict  will  wear  their  chains  with 
proud  satisfaction,  while  the  renegade  marquis — the  base  priest,  will 
have  more  to  blush  for  than  ourselves.  On  with  your  work,  then,  my 
good  lad,  fear  not  to  strike  your  hammer  hard  on  the  iron ;  remem- 
ber that  neither  chains  nor  galley-slavery  can  deprive  us  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  our  duty  faithfully,  or  attach  dishonour  to 
our  names.— A  word  or  two  with  you,  my  dear  Mayeux,  for  time  is 
hastening  on,  and  we  must  be  quick.  When  you  were  in  the  convent 
garden,  did  you  remark  if  the  different  stories  of  the  building  were 
very  high  from  the  ground  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  M.  Dagobert,  they  were  not,  especially  on  that  side  of 
the  convent  which  faced  the  madhouse,  where  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville  was  confined." 

"  In  what  manner  did  you  contrive  to  speak  to  the  young  lady  ?" 

"  She  was  on  the  other  side  of  a  gate  with  open  iron  work  half- 
way up  it,  which  seemed  to  divide  the  two  gardens." 

"  Excellent  I"  said  Agricola,  continuing  to  weld  the  iron.  "  Nothing 
can  be  easier  than  to  pass  from  one  garden  to  the  other ;  and,  perhaps, 
we  shall  find  it  both  safer  and  more  practicable  to  return  by  the 
garden  belonging  to  the  madhouse,  unfortunately,  though,  you  cannot 
tell  us  which  is  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville's  chamber." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can,"  exclaimed  La  Mayeux,  trying  to  collect  her  ideas. 
"  She  is  in  a  small  square  pavilion,  and  there  is  over  the  window 
where  I  first  saw  her  a  sort  of  verandah,  painted  slate  colour  and 
white." 

"  That  will  do ;  I  shall  be  sure  to  recollect  it." 

"  And  you  cannot  give  me  any  notion  where  the  rooms  in  which 
my  poor  children  are  confined  are  situated,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Dagobert, 
anxiously. 

After  a  moment's  consideration,  La  Mayeux  said,  "  They  are  op- 
posite the  apartment  of  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  ;  for  she  has  been 
able  during  the  last  two  days  to  converse  with  them  by  signs  from  the 
windows ;  and  now  I  remember,  she  told  me  that  their  rooms  were 
placed  on  different  stories, — the  one  being  on  the  ground-floor,  the 
other  just  over  it  on  the  first  floor.'' 

"  And  were  there  bars  to  their  windows  ?"  inquired  Agricola. 

tf  That  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"  It  matters  not,  my  good  girl.  Many  thanks  for  what  you  /tare 
told  us  with  «uch  cl<-;tr  directions  ;  we  shall  be  able  to  make  them  out," 
answered  Dagobert ;  "  aud  tliat  once  ascertained,  I  have  my  own 
plans  for  the  rest." 

"Give  me  some  water,  dear  Mayeux,"  said  Agricola,  "that  I  may  cool 
my  iron  ;"  and  then  addressing  his  father,  he  said,  -Will  this  hook  do  ?" 

••  Yes,  my  boy,  capitally  !  and  as  soon  as  it  is  cold  enough  we  will 
fix  it  to  the  rope." 

All  this  time   Fraocoise  Buudoin  was    kneeling,    and    fervently 


THE  PENAL  CODE,  471 

imploring  Heaven  to  pardon  the  terrible  sin  her  husband  and  son,  in 
the  blindness  and  ignorance  of  their  hearts,  were  about  to  commit ; 
and  earnestly  did  she  beseech  the  Almighty  to  visit  on  her  alone 
the  inevitable  consequences  of  their  crime,  since  she  only  was  the 
cause  of  their  fatal  and  sinful  enterprise. 

Tho  rest  of  the  necessary  preparations  were  completed  by 
Dagoberfc  and  his  son  in  solemn  silence,  They  were  calm  and  self- 
possessed,  spite  of  the  paleness  of  their  cheeks,  which,  while  it  indicated 
no  fear,  at  least  proved  that  they  thoroughly  understood  the  perilous 
nature  of  the  undertaking  they  were  about  to  embark  in. 

In  a  few  minutes  ten  o'clock  sounded  from  the  church  of  Saint 
Merry ;  but  the  sounds  were  deadened,  and  almost  lost,  amid  the 
violent  gusts  of  wind  and  the  pattering  of  the  heavy  rain,  as  it  drove 
against  the  casements  with  unceasing  fury. 

"  Ten  o'clock !"  said  Dagobert,  starting ;  "  then  there  is  not  au 
instant  to  be  lost.  Now,  Agricola,  take  up  the  bag." 

"  I  will,  father." 

As  the  smith  moved  towards  the  table  where  the  bag  was  placed, 
he  said,  in  a  low,  hurried  manner  to  La  Mayeux,  who,  faint  and 
trembling,  could  scarcely  support  herself,  "  Should  we  not  return  by 
to-morrow  morning,  I  commit  my  mother  to  your  care.  Go  to 
M.  Hardy ;  he  has  probably  returned  home  by  this  time.  Come, 
dear  sister,  take  courage,  and  give  me  one  kiss.  Remember,  to 
your  kindness  and  consolation  I  leave  my  dear  mother." 

So  saying,  the  young  man,  deeply  affected,  tenderly  embraced  La 
Mayeux,  whose  strength  and  senses  seemed  all  but  to  forsake  her. 

"  Come,  old  Kill-joy,"  said  Dagobert,  "  you  must  go  with  us ;  you 
will  serve  us  as  a  sentinel  to  apprise  us  of  the  approach  of  an  enemy ; 
— so,  en  route  /"  Then,  approaching  his  wife,  who  had  risen  from  her 
chair,  and  was  pressing  her  son  to  her  bosom,  while  she  almost  fran- 
tically kissed  his  hair,  his  forehead,  and  bedewed  him  with  her  fast- 
falling  tears,  the  old  soldier,  feigning  a  calmness  and  serenity  he  was 
far  from  feeling,  said, — 

"  Now  then,  good  wife,  dry  up  your  tears ;  make  a  good  fire,  and 
put  every  thing  in  order ;  in  two  or  three  hours  we  shall  be  back,  and 
bring  you  not  only  our  own  two  dear  girls,  but  a  beautiful  young  lady 
also.  Come,  give  me  a  kiss,  and  wish  me  good  luck  !" 

Francoise  threw  herself  on  her  husband's  neck  without  uttering  a 
word.  This  mute  despair,  interrupted  only  by  deep  and  convulsive 
sobs,  was  dreadful  to  witness.  Dagobert  was  obliged  to  tear  himself 
from  her  grasp ;  and,  endeavouring  to  conceal  his  emotion,  said  to  his 
son,  in  an  unsteady  voice, — 

"  We  had  better  be  gone  ;  this  is  too  much  for  me.  Come, 
Agricola,  let  us  go.  Watch  over  my  poor  wife,  dearest  Mayeux. 
Come,  my  son, — come  I" 

With  these  words,  the  soldier,  having  slipped  his  pistols  in  the 
pocket  of  his  great -coat,  was  proceeding  to  the  door,  followed  by 
Kill-joy. 

"My  son  —  my  son  1"  shrieked  the  wretched  mother,  "let  me 
embrace  him  once  more,  probably  for  the  last  time  !  Come  to  me, 
my  child,"  cried  Francoise,  wholly  incapable  of  quitting  her  chair, 


472  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  and  tell  me  you  forgive  me  for  bringing  this  upon  you.  Oh,  mer- 
ciful Heaven  !  this  is  my  doing  !" 

The  smith  turned  back  again,  and,  affectionately  embracing  his 
mother  while  his  tears  mingled  with  hers,  he  whispered,  "  Adieu,  my 
beloved  mother.  Comfort  yourself  with  the  certainty  of  seeing  us 
again  ere  long."  Then,  tearing  himself  from  the  weak  arms  that  held 
him,  he  hastened  to  rejoin  his  father  on  the  staircase. 

Francoise  Baudoin  gazed  vacantly  around  her  as  the  door  closed 
on  Agricola ;  then,  heaving  a  deep  groan,  fell  almost  lifeless  in  the 
arms  of  La  Mayeux. 

Meanwhile,  Dagobert  and  Agricola,  a  prey  to  the  most  cruel 
torments,  quitted  the  Rue  Brise-Miche,  and  proceeded  with  rapid  steps 
towards  the  Boulevard  de  1'Hopital,  followed  by  Kill-joy. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

ESCALADE  AND  FORCIBLE  ENTRY. 

IT  struck  half-past  eleven  o'clock  as  Dagobert  and  his  son  reached 
the  Boulevard  de  1'Hopital. 

The  wind  was  very  high,  and  the  rain  fell  heavily,  but  in  spite  of 
the  thickness  of  the  watery  clouds  the  night  was  light,  owing  to  the 
late  rising  of  the  moon.  The  tall  dark  trees  and  the  white  walls  of 
the  convent  garden  were  plainly  distinguishable.  At  a  distance  was 
a  lamp,  swayed  to  and  fro  by  the  wind,  whose  dim  light  was  hardly 
visible  in  the  midst  of  the  rain  and  fog,  as  it  hung  over  the  muddy 
thoroughfare  of  the  solitary  boulevard.  From  time  to  time  was 
heard  in  the  distance  the  heavy  roll  of  some  belated  vehicle,  and  then 
a  dead  silence  followed. 

Dagobert  and  his  son  had  scarcely  exchanged  a  syllable  since  their 
departure  from  the  Rue  Brise-Miche.  The  intentions  of  these  two 
fine- hearted  fellows  were  noble,  generous,  and  determined,  but  yet 
they  were  thoughtful,  as  they  glided  along  in  the  shadow,  like  robbers 
when  projecting  nocturnal  crimes. 

Agricola  bore  on  his  shoulders  the  sack  containing  the  cord,  the 
hook,  and  the  crowbar ;  and  Dagobert  leaned  on  his  son's  arm,  and 
Kill-joy  followed  his  master. 

"  The  bench  on  which  we  sat  down  cannot  be  far  off  from  here," 
said  Dagobert,  stopping. 

"  Here  it  is,  father,"  said  Agricola,  as  he  saw  it. 

"  It  is  only  half-past  eleven,  and  we  had  better  wait  till  midnight," 
replied  Dagobert.  "  Let  us  sit  down  a  little  while  to  rest  and  arrange 
our  plans." 

After  a  moment's  silence,  the  soldier  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  emo- 
tion, and  pressing  his  son's  hands  between  his  own, — 

"  Agricola,  my  boy,  there  is  yet  time,  and  I  beseech  you  let  me 
go  alone.  I  shall  manage  the  business  very  well ;  and  the  closer  the 


ESCALADE  AND  FORCIBLE  ENTRY.  473 

time  draws  on,  the  more  I  fear  to  compromise  you  in  this  dangerous 
enterprise." 

"  And  I,  my  dear  father,  the  closer  the  time  approaches,  the  more 
do  I  believe  that  I  shall  be  useful  to  you  —  good  or  bad  I  will  share 
your  fate.  Our  intention  is  praiseworthy.  It  is  a  debt  of  honour 
which  you  owe,  and  I  should  like  to  pay  the  half  of  it,  so  I  will  not 
now  recede.  So  now,  my  father,  let  us  arrange  our  plan  of  proceed- 
ing." 

"  Well,  then,  you  will  accompany  me,"  said  Dagobert,  stifling  a 
sigh. 

"I  must,  my  dear  father,"  replied  Agricola,  "and  you  will  see 
that  we  shall  be  successful.  You  saw  the  little  door  in  the  garden 
wall  as  we  passed,  that  is  in  our  favour." 

"  Yes,  by  that  we  shall  get  into  the  garden,  and  then  we  must  find 
out  the  buildings  which  divide  the  wall  which  terminates  by  a  grated 
door." 

"  Yes,  and  on  one  side  of  that  grated  door  is  the  pavilion  in  which 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  is,  and  on  the  other  that  side  of  the  con- 
vent in  which  the  marshal's  daughters  are  confined." 

At  this  moment  Kill-joy,  who  was  crouched  at  Dagobert's  feet, 
rose  suddenly,  pointing  his  ears,  and  listening  attentively. 

"It  appears  as  if  Kill-joy  heard  something,"  said  Agricola.  "Lis- 
ten ! "  Nothing  was  heard  but  the  noise  of  the  wind  howling  in  the 
tall  trees  of  the  boulevard. 

"  But,  father,  when  we  have  once  got  the  garden-gate  open,  shall 
we  take  Kill-joy  with  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  if  they  have  a  watch-dog  he'll  settle  his  business,  and 
then  lie '11  warn  us  if  the  watchmen  come;  and,  who  knows?  he  is 
so  sagacious,  and  so  fond  of  Rose  and  Blanche,  that  he  may  help  us, 
perhaps,  to  discover  the  place  where  they  are.  I  have  seen  him  scores 
of  times  find  them  out  in  the  woods  with  extraordinary  instinct." 

A  slow,  heavy,  and  clear  sound  heard  amidst  the  whistling  of  the 
night  wind  begun  the  chime  of  midnight. 

This  noise  echoed  painfully  in  the  minds  of  Agricola  and  his 
father,  and  silent  and  startled  they  sprang  suddenly  on  their  feet,  and 
by  a  spontaneous  movement  took  and  energetically  squeezed  each 
other's  hands.  In  spite  of  themselves,  each  throb  of  their  hearts  an- 
swered to  each  of  the  strokes  of  the  clock,  whose  vibration  was  pro- 
longed in  the  midst  of  the  solemn  silence  of  the  night. 

At  the  last  stroke  Dagobert  said  to  his  son  with  a  firm  voice, — 

"  It  is  midnight !  embrace  me,  my  dear  boy  ;  and,  now  to  work." 

The  father  and  son  embraced.  The  moment  was  decisive  and 
serious. 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Agricola,  "  let  us  act  with  all  the  boldness 
and  cunning  of  robbers  going  to  plunder  a  strong  box." 

So  saying,  the  smith  took  from  the  sack  the  cord  and  the  hook. 
Dagobert  had  the  crowbar,  and  both  of  them  going  along  the  wall 
cautiously,  reached  the  small  door,  which  was  close  to  the  angle  formed 
by  the  street  and  the  boulevard,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  listen 
attentively,  and  endeavouring  to  ascertain,  the  noises  caused  only  by 
the  high  wind  and  rain. 

The  night  continued  still  sufficiently  light  for  them  to  distinguish 


474  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

objects,  the  smith  and  the  soldier  reached  the  little  gate,  the  planks  of 
which  appeared  weak  and  worm-eaten. 

"All  right,"  said  Agricola  to  his  father,  "one  blow  and  it  will  give 
way." 

And  so  saying,  the  smith  was  about  to  apply  his  shoulder  vigor- 
ously to  the  door,  bending  hi*  back  and  legs  for  that  purpose,  when, 
ut  that  instant,  Kill-joy  growled  as  if  to  stop  him. 

Dagobert  silenced  the  animal,  and  taking  his  son  by  the  arm,  said 
to  him  in  a  whisper,— 

"  Do  not  stir — Kill-joy  smells  some  one  in  the  garden." 

Agricola  and  his  father  remained  motionless  for  some  minutes, 
listening  attentively,  and  holding  their  breath.  The  dog,  obedient  to 
his  master,  ceased  his  growl,  but  his  uneasiness  and  restlessness  were 
still  more  apparent.  Still  nothing  was  heard. 

u  The  dog  was  mistaken,  father,"  said  Agricola,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No,  I  am  sure  he  was  not.     Do  not  move." 

After  again  waitipg  for  a  few  seconds,  Kill-joy  laid  down  suddenly 
and  stretched  his  muzzle  as  far  as  he  could  under  the  lowest  part  of 
the  door,  sniffling  very  eagerly. 

il  Some  one  comes,"  said  Dagobert  quickly  to  his  son. 

"  Let  us  retreat,"  replied  Agricola. 

"  No,"  said  his  father ;  "  let  us  listen, — it  will  be  time  to  flee  if. 
they  open  the  door.  Here,  Kill-joy,  here  ! "  The  obedient  brute  left 
the  door,  and  came  crouching  to  the  feet  of  his  master. 

Some  moments  afterwards  they  heard  a  sort  of  trampling  noise  on 
the  ground,  soaked  by  the  rain,  caused  by  heavy  footsteps  dragging 
through  the  wet  pools,  and  then  a  noise  of  talking,  which,  drowned  by 
the  wind,  did  not  reach  the  soldier  and  his  son. 

"  They  are  the  people  on  the  watch  that  Mayeux  spoke  about," 
said  Agricola  to  his  father, 

"  So  much  the  better ;  they  will  not  now  go  on  their  next  round 
for  some  time,  and  that  will  give  us  two  hours  to  ourselves  at  least ; 
and  now  we  shall  effect  our  purpose  the  more  securely." 

Then  the  noise  became  gradually  the  Jess  distinct,  and  was  soon 
Jost  entirely. 

"  Come,  quick,  do  not  let  us  lose  any  time,"  said  Dagobert  to  his 
son,  after  ten  minutes  had  elapsed,  "  they  have  gone; ;  and  now  let  us 
try  and  open  this  door." 

Agricola,  applying  his  powerful  shoulders,  thrust  vigorously  ;  but 
the  door,  in  spite  of  its  decay,  did  not  yield. 

"Confound  it  I"  said  Agricola,  "it  is  barred  on  the  inside,  I  am 
sure,  or  else  these  rotten  planks  would  not  have  resisted  my  strength." 

''  What's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  will  get  on  the  wall  by  the  help  of  the  cord  and  hook,  and  then 
open  it  in  the  inside." 

So  saying,  Agricola  took  the  cord  and  cramp-iron,  and  after 
several  attempts  the  hook  caught  on  the  coping  of  the  wall. 

"  Now,  father,  make  me  a  short  ladder,  and  I  will  pull  myself  up 
by  the  cord,  once  astride  of  the  wall  I  can  turn  the  hook,  and  easily 
drop  down  into  the  garden." 

The  soldier  placed  his  back  against  the  wall,  and  joining  his 
hands  together,  hie  son  put  his  foot  in  the  hollow  they  formed,  then 


KSCALADE     AND    KORCIBLK    ENTRY. 


ESCALADE  AND  FORCIBLE  ENTRY.  475 

mounting  on  the  stout  shoulders  of  his  father,  which  he  made  his  point 
d'appni,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  cord  and  some  inequalities  in  the  wall, 
he  reached  the  top.  Unfortunately  the  smith  had  not  observed  that 
the  coping  of  the  wall  was  guarded  by  broken  glass-bottles,  which  cut 
his  hands  and  knees,  but,  for  fear  of  alarming  Dagobert,  he  repressed 
a  cry  of  pain,  turned  the  cramp-iron  as  he  required  it,  and  sliding  down 
the  ropes,  reached  the  ground.  The  door  was  close,  and  he  found 
then  that  it  was  fastened  by  a  strong  bar  of  wood.  The  lock  was  in 
so  bad  a  condition  that  it  gave  way  to  a  violent  blow  from  Agricola, 
and  then,  the  door  opening,  Dagobert  entered  the  garden  with  Kill-joy. 

"  Now,"  said  the  old  soldier  to  his  son,  "  thanks  to  you,  the  worst 
is  got  over.  Here  is  a  means  of  escape  open  for  my  poor  children  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville.  All  we  have  to  do  now  is  to  find  them, 
without  any  unfortunate  rencontre  with  any  other  person.  Kill-joy, 
go  first,  as  a  pioneer; — go,  go,  good  dog;  and  mind,  be  very  quiet, — 
mind,"  added  Dagobert. 

The  sagacious  animal  then  advanced,  sniffing,  and  listening,  and 
searching,  with  all  the  care  and  close  attention  of  a  bloodhound  on  the 
quest. 

By  the  dim  moonlight  straggling  through  the  clouds,  Dagobert  and 
his  M>ii  perceived  about  them  a  thicket  of  very  large  trees,  whence 
diverged  various  paths.  Undecided  which  to  choose,  Agricola  said  to 
his  father, — 

"  Let  us  take  the  path  which  runs  close  to  the  walk,  and  that  must 
lead  us  to  the  building." 

"  Right — let  us  do  so;  and  let  us  walk  on  the  turf  instead  of  on 
these  muddy  paths, — we  shall  make  less  noise." 

The  father  and  son,  preceded  by  Kill-joy,  traversed  for  some  time 
a  winding  path  which  ran  not  far  from  the  wall.  They  stopped,  from 
time  to  time,  to  listen  and  look  carefully  about  them  before  they  went 
on,  in  order  to  make  out  the  various  appearances  presented  by  the 
agitated  trees  and  shrubs  which,  shaken  by  the  wind,  and  lighted  by 
the  pale  moonlight,  assumed  fantastic  shapes. 

Half-past  twelve  o'clock  struck  as  Agricola  and  his  father  reached 
a  large  iron  gate,  which  shut  upon  the  private  garden  of  the  superior, 
into  which  Mayeux  had  obtained  access  in  the  morning,  after  having 
seon  Rose  Simon  conversing  with  Adrienne  de  Cardoville. 

Through  the  bars  of  this  iron  gate,  Agricola  and  his  father  saw,  at 
a  short  distance,  an  open-work  railing,  which  inclosed  a  chapel  that 
was  erecting  beyond  the  small  square  pavilion. 

"  No  doubt  that  is  the  pavilion  belonging  to  the  mad-house  in  which 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  is  confined,"  said  Agricola. 

"  And  the  building  in  which  are  the  chambers  of  Rose  and  Blanche, 
but  which  we  cannot  see  from  here,  no  doubt  faces  it,"  said  Dagobert. 
"  Poor  dear  children,  they  arc  tliere,  no  doubt,  in  tears  and  despair," 
he  added,  in  a  tone  of  deep  feeling. 

"  This  gate  should  be  open,"  said  Agricola. 

••  It  most  probably  is,  as  it  is  inside  the  walls." 

"  Let  us  advance  gently." 

A  few  paces,  and  they  reached  the  gate,  which  was  only  closed  by 
a  latch. 

Dagobert  was  about  to  open  it,  when  Agricola  said,—' 


476  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Take  care  that  the  hinges  do  not  make  a  noise." 

"  Must  I  push  it  slowly  or  quickly?" 

"  Let  me  do  it,"  said  Agricola. 

And  he  opened  the  gate  so  quickly  that  it  made  but  a  very  slight 
noise,  but  still,  it  was  so  audible  that  it  was  plainly  heard  in  the  silence 
of  the  night,  during  one  of  the  quieter  intervals  of  the  storm. 

Agricola  and  his  father  remained  for  a  moment  motionless,  uneasy 
and  listening,  not  daring  to  cross  the  threshold  of  the  gate,  lest  they 
should  not  have  the  means  of  retreat. 

Nothing  stirred — all  remained  calm  and  silent.  Agricola  and  his 
father,  taking  heart,  went  into  the  private  garden. 

Scarcely  had  the  dog  entered  this  place  than  he  gave  every  sign  of 
remarkable  joy,  pricked  up  his  ears,  wagging  his  tail,  and  bounding, 
rather  than  running,  he  soon  reached  the  open-work  door,  where,  in 
the  morning,  Rose  Simon  had  for  an  instant  spoken  to  Mademoiselle 
de  Cardoville ;  then  he  paused  a  moment  at  that  spot,  uneasy  and 
anxious,  turning  and  moving  like  a  dog  who  seeks  and  discovers  a 
scent.  Dagobert  and  his  son,  leaving  Kill-joy  to  follow  his  instinct, 
followed  his  every  movement  with  indescribable  interest  and  suspense, 
hoping  the  best  from  his  sagacity  and  attachment  to  the  orphans. 

"  It  was,  no  doubt,  close  to  this  grating  that  Rose  was  when 
Mayeux  saw  her,"  said  Dagobert.  "  Kill-joy  is  on  the  track — let 
him  alone." 

At  the  end  of  a  few  seconds,  the  dog  turned  his  head  towards 
Dagobert,  and  then  darted  off  towards  a  door  on  the  ground-floor  of 
the  building  in  front  of  the  pavilion  occupied  by  Adrienne  ;  then, 
having  reached  that  door,  the  animal  laid  down  as  though  to  wait  for 
Dagobert. 

"  There  can  be  no  more  doubt !  This  is  the  building  in  which  the 
children  are  confined,"  said  Dagobert,  going  towards  Kill-joy  ;  "  it 
was  there  that  they  shut  Rose  up  lately." 

"  We  must  see  if  the  windows  have  bars  or  not,"  said  Agricola, 
following  his  father. 

They  both  reached  the  spot  where  Kill-joy  was. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,"  said  the  soldier,  in  a  low  voice,  pointing  to  the 
building,  "  are  Rose  and  Blanche  there  ?  " 

The  dog  lifted  up  his  head,  and  replied  by  a  low  howl  and  two  or 
three  low  barks. 

Dagobert  had  only  time  to  seize  the  dog  by  the  throat  between  his 
hands. 

"  He  will  ruin  all ! "  exclaimed  the  smith.  "  He  has  been  heard, 
perhaps  " 

"  No!"  replied  Dagobert.     "  But,  doubtless,  the  children  are  there." 

At  this  moment  the  iron  gate,  by  which  the  soldier  and  his  son  had 
entered  the  private  garden,  and  had  left  open,  closed  violently. 

"  We  are  shut  in,"  said  Agricola,  quickly ;  "  and  there  is  no  other 
way  to  get  out." 

For  a  moment  the  father  and  son  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay, 
but  Agricola  said,  suddenly, — 

"  Perhaps  the  half-door  of  the  iron  gate  has  closed  by  its  own 
weight.  I  will  run  and  see, — and  open  it,  if  I  can." 

"  Go,  as  quickly  as  possible,  whilst  I  look  at  the  windows." 


ESCALADE  AND  FORCIBLE  ENTRY.  477 

Agricola  ran  towards  the  iron  gate,  whilst  Dagobert,  going  cau- 
tiously along  the  walk,  reached  the  windows  of  the  ground-floor,  which 
were  four  in  number,  two  of  which  had  no  iron  bars.  He  looked  at 
the  first  floor,  and  found  it  rather  high,  but  none  of  the  windows  were 
barred,  so  that  the  young  girl  who  was  in  that  story  could,  when  warned, 
fasten  a  sheet  to  the  single  bar  outside  the  sill,  and  slide  down,  as  the 
orphans  did  when  they  escaped  from  the  inn  of  the  White  Falcon  ;  but 
it  was  a  necessary,  though  difficult  point  to  ascertain  which  was  the 
chamber  which  Rose  or  Blanche  occupied.  Dagobert  thought  that 
the  sister  who  was  in  the  ground-floor  would  inform  him,  but  then  there 
was  also  the  difficulty  of  knowing  at  which  of  these  four  windows  he 
ought  to  knock. 

Agricola  returned  with  speed. 

"  It  was  the  wind,  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  that  closed  the  iron  gate. 
I  have  opened  it  again,  and  fastened  it  back  with  a  stone  ;  but  we  must 
be  quick." 

"  How  can  we  discover  which  are  the  windows  of  the  rooms  in 
which  the  poor  children  are?"  said  Dagobert,  with  a  tone  of  anguish. 

"  True,"  said  Agricola.     "  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  To  call  out,  and  take  all  chance,"  said  Dagobert,  "  could  but 
give  the  alarm,  if  we  mistook  the  room." 

"  Oh,  dear  ! — oh,  dear  I "  replied  Agricola,  with  extreme  uneasiness; 
"  to  come  under  the  very  window,  and  yet  not  know  which " 

"  Time  presses,"  said  Dagobert,  quickly,  and  interrupting  his  son, 
"  we  must  risk  all,  for  the  sake  of  all." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  father  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  will  call  with  a  loud  voice,  '  Rose !'  '  Blanche !'  In  de- 
spair, as  they  are,  I  am  sure,  they  are  not  asleep,  but  will  jump  up  at 
the  first  sound.  By  means  of  her  sheet,  fastened  to  the  outside  bar, 
in  less  than  five  minutes  the  one  who  is  on  the  first-floor  will  be  iu 
our  arms.  As  to  her  on  the  ground-floor,  if  her  window  is  not  barred, 
she  will  be  with  us  in  a  second ;  if  not,  we  will  very  soon  wrench  out 
one  of  those  iron  bars." 

"  But,  my  dear  father,  pray  consider — if  you  call  to  them  in  a  loud 
voice " 

"  I  may  not,  perhaps,  be  heard." 

"  But  should  you  be,  all  is  lost." 

"  I  don't  know  that.  •  Before  they  could  call  their  watching-men 
and  open  the  different  doors  they  must  pass  through  before  reaching 
us,  we  shall  be  off;  and  if  once  we  can  regain  the  Boulevard,  the  dear 
children  may  be  free,  and  ourselves  beyond  pursuit.  It  is  a  dangerous 
expedient,  but  I  see  no  other  way.  If  there  be  only  two  men,  Kill-joy 
and  I  will  take  good  care  of  them  should  they  arrive  before  we  have 
got  the  dear  girls  out ;  and  that  once  effected,  you  must  hurry  away 
with  them  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

"  Father  I "  cried  Agricola,  suddenly,  "  there  is  one  safe  and  cer- 
tain mode  of  learning  what  we  want  to  know.  According  to  what 
La  Mayeux  told  us,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  has  been  in  the  habit 
of  communicating  by  signs  with  Rose  and  Blanche." 

"  True." 

"  She  must  know,  then,  exactly  where  the  chambers  of  the  poor 


478  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

girls  are  situated,  since  they  answered  her  signab  from  their  different 
windows." 

"  You  are  right;  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  done.  Let  us  go  at 
once  to  the  pavilion  ;  but  there  again,  how  are  we  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  rest  of  the  building  ?  " 

•  •  La  Mayeux  explained  all  that  very  clearly.  She  told  me  I  should 
be  sure  to  recognise  the  apartment  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  de  Car- 
doville  by  its  having  a  painted  projection  like  a  sort  of  awning  over 
the  window." 

"  Then  hasten  with  all  speed.  You  will  have  little  difficulty 
in  breaking  through  the  gate  of  separation  between  the  two  gardens. 
Have  you  got  the  iron  bar  ?  " 

"  Yes,  here  it  is." 

"  Let  us  be  off  then — there  is  not  a  minute  to  lose." 

Proceeding  with  rapid  pace  towards  the  slight  division  between  the 
gardens  already  alluded  to,  Agricola  tore  out  two  or  three  planks  from 
the  lower  part  of  the  gate,  leaving  an  opening  through  which  a  person 
might  easily  pass. 

"  Do  you  stay  there,  father,  and  keep  close  watch,"  said  Agricola, 
entering  into  the  garden  of  Dr.  Baleinier. 

The  window  indicated  by  La  Mayeux  was  easily  recognised.  It 
was  both  high  and  large,  surrounded  by  a  sort  of  projection,  or  awning, 
for  it  had  once  been  a  door,  walled  up  at  an  after  period  to  nearly  a 
third  of  its  height,  and  was  well  defended  from  all  chance  of  ingress  or 
egress  by  thick  bars  of  iron.  The  rain  had  now  quite  ceased,  and  the 
moon,  breaking  from  the  dense  clouds  which  had  previously  obscured 
it,  shone  clearly  and  resplendently  on  the  whole  of  the  pavilion.  As 
Agricola  approached  the  window,  he  found  the  whole  of  the  chamber 
which  it  belonged  to  plunged  in  darkness,  but  a  bright  light  was 
visible  through  a  half-closed  door  at  the  extremity  of  the  apartment. 

Trusting  that  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  had  not  yet  retired  to 
rest,  the  smith  ventured  to  tap  lightly  against  the  window-panes.  In 
an  instant  the  door  from  within  was  thrown  open  its  full  width,  and 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville,  who  had  not  thought  of  preparing  for  the 
night,  entered  the  apartment,  dressed  precisely  as  she  had  been  during 
her  conversation  with  La  Mayeux.  The  light  which  Adrienne  carried 
in  her  hand  revealed  at  once  the  enchanting  sweetness  of  her  counte- 
nance, as  well  as  the  surprise  and  alarm  depicted  on  them.  Placing 
her  candle  on  the  table,  Adrienne  appeared  to  listen  attentively  while 
she  slowly  and  cautiously  advanced  towards  the  window,  when  sud- 
denly perceiving  the  indistinct  outline  of  a  man  looking  through  the 
bars,  she  involuntarily  started  and  stood  still. 

Fearing  lest,  in  her  first  terror,  Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville  might 
return  to  seek  refuge  in  the  inner  chamber,  Agricola  again  tapped  on 
the  glass,  and  at  the  risk  of  being  heard  from  without,  he  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  mademoiselle.     'Tis  I — Agricola  Baudoin  I " 

As  Adrienne  caught  these  sounds,  she  at  once  recollected  her  late 
conversation  with  La  Mayeux,  and  concluded  that  Agricola  and  his 
father  had  made  their  way  into  the  convent  for  the  purpose  of  carrying 
off  Rose  and  Blanche.  Hastening  to  the  window,  she  easily  recognised 


ESCALADE  AND  FORCIBLE  ENTRY.  479 

the  features  of  Agricola  by  the  bright  moonbeams,  and  opened  the 
C.IM  incut  with  as  little  noise  as  possible. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  smith,  precipitately,  "  there  is  not  an 
instant  to  lose;  the  Count  de  Montbron  is  not  in  Paris,  and  my 
father  and  myself  are  here  to  deliver  you  from  your  unjust  confine- 
ment." 

"  Thanks,  thanks !  M.  Agricola,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Cardo- 
ville,  in  a  voice  of  the  most  touching  gratitude,  "  but  first  think  of  the 
daughters  of  General  Simon." 

"  He  assured,  mademoiselle,  we  are  here  purposely  to  effect  their 
release,  but  we  are  unable  to  determine  which  is  their  window,  and  I 
am  come  to  beg  you  will  kindly  assist  us  to  find  it." 

"  The  chamber  of  one  of  them  is  on  the  ground-floor,  the  last  on 
the  side  of  the  garden ;  and  the  other  is  situated  on  the  first  floor, 
directly  over  it." 

"  Then  we  shall  be  able  to  save  them  !"  exclaimed  the  smith. 

"  But  now,  I  remember,"  said  Adrienne,  "  the  first  floor  is  very 
high  from  the  ground,  you  will  find,  among  the  building  materials  for 
the  construction  of  the  chapel  now  in  progress  of  erection  there,  some 
very  long  poles  provided  for  scaffoldings,  which  may  be  serviceable  to 
you." 

"  That  will  answer  as  well  as  a  ladder  to  enable  me  to  reach  the 
first  floor ;  but  now  to  provide  the  means  for  your  escape,  made- 
moiselle." 

"  Oh,  do  not  mind  me  I  Think  only  of  these  poor  orphans, 
for  time  presses.  So  that  they  can  but  be  liberated  to-night,  it 
matters  little  to  me  whether  I  remain  a  day  longer  or  shorter  in  this 

i  it  J  S 

house. 

"  Not  so,  mademoiselle  ;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance for  you  to  be  freed  this  night.  Matters  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance, of  which  I  doubt  not  you  have  hitherto  been  kept  ignorant, 
absolutely  demand  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  have  not  time  to  explain  myself  more  fully  at  this  moment ;  but 
I  beseech  you,  mademoiselle,  come  away  this  instant.  I  can  easily 
wrench  away  a  couple  of  bars  from  this  window.  I  will  fetch  my 
crowbar." 

"  There  is  no  need  ;  the  door  of  this  pavilion  is  merely  locked  and 
bolted  on  the  outside.  You  can  easily  knock  off  the  locks  and  undo 
the  bolt." 

"  And  in  ten  minutes  after  we  shall  be  on  the  Boulevard,"  said 
the  Hiiith.  "  Hasten,  then,  mademoiselle,  I  implore  you.  Wrap 
yourself  up  as  well  as  you  can,  for  the  night  is  very  cold,  and  I  will 
return  directly  to  convey  you  hence." 

"  M.  Agricola,"  said  Adrienne,  with  tears  in  hercyes,  "I  well  know 
all  the  risk  you  are  running  to  save  and  servo  me ;  and  I  trust  to  bo 
;vbie  to  prove  to  you  that  my  memory  is  as  good  as  yours.  Ah  I  you 
and  your  adopted  sister  are  noble,  excellent  creatures ;  and  I  feel 
pleasure  in  owing  you  both  HO  vast  a  debt.  But  do  not  think  of  re- 
turning hither  till  you  havo  effected  the  release  of  the  daughters  of 
General  Simon." 

"  Thanks  to  the  clear  directions  you  have  given  me,  mademoiselle, 


4SO  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

you  may  safely  reckon  upon  our  success  in  freeing  the  young  ladies. 
I  will  now  hasten  back  to  my  father,  and  return  to  you  immediately." 

In  pursuance  of  the  excellent  advice  given  by  Mademoiselle  de 
Cardoville,  Agricola  proceeded  to  the  pile  of  materials  prepared  for 
the  erection  of  the  chapel,  and  taking  up  one  of  those  long  and 
stout  poles  employed  in  building,  threw  it  easily  over  his  powerful 
shoulders,  and  with  a  light  and  agile  step  proceeded  to  rejoin  his 
father. 

Scarcely  had  Agricola  passed  the  garden-gate,  in  his  way  to  the 
chapel,  which  was  quite  hid  in  the  shadow,  than  Adrienne  fancied  she 
saw  the  outline  of  a  human  form  issue  from  a  clump  of  trees  in  the 
convent  garden,  rapidly  dart  across  the  walk,  and  then  disappear  be- 
hind a  high  hedge  of  box.  Much  alarmed  for  Agricola's  safety,  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville  ventured  to  call  to  him  several  times  in  a 
subdued  tone  of  voice,  in  order  to  put  him  on  his  guard  ;  but  the 
smith  was  far  out  of  hearing ;  he  had  already  rejoined  his  father,  who, 
a  prey  to  the  most  cruel  anxiety,  kept  listening  first  at  one  window, 
then  at  another,  in  a  state  almost  amounting  to  frenzy. 

fi  All  is  right,"  said  Agricola,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  here  are  the 
windows  we  want,  the  one  on  the  ground-floor,  the  other  just  over  it 
on  the  first  story." 

"  Now,  then ! "  exclaimed  Dagobert,  with  a  burst  of  rapture  im- 
possible to  describe,  as  with  eager  joy  he  ran  to  examine  the  casements 
indicated  as  being  those  of  his  beloved  orphans. 

"  They  are  not  grated,"  said  he,  exultingly. 

"  Let  us  first  ascertain  that  one  of  the  children  is  there,"  said 
Agricola ;  "  then  by  placing  this  pole  against  the  wall  I  can  easily 
climb  up  to  the  window  on  the  first-floor,  which  is  not  very  high." 

"  Right,  my  boy  !  and  once  up,  you  will  knock  against  the  glass, 
and  call  either  Rose  or  Blanche.  When  you  are  answered,  come 
down,  and  we  will  place  the  pole  against  the  window-bar,  and  the  poor 
girl  will  slide  down — they  are  both  light  and  active  as  young  birds. 
Come,  come  ! — quick  I — to  work  at  once  ! " 

"  And  then,  father,  we  will  hasten  to  the  deliverance  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville." 

Whilst  Agricola,  raising  the  pole  and  placing  it  securely  against 
the  window-frame,  was  praparing  to  ascend,  Dagobert,  tapping  against 
the  window  of  the  apartment  on  the  ground-floor,  said,  in  a  loud 
voice,— 

"  Tis  I !— 'tis  Dagobert ! " 

The  chamber  was,  in  fact,  the  one  occupied  by  Rose  Simon ;  but 
the  poor  girl,  distracted  by  her  separation  from  her  beloved  sister  and 
consumed  by  a  burning  fever,  the  consequences  of  her  mental  distress, 
was  far  from  being  able  to  sleep,  and  was  tossing  on  an  uneasy  couch, 
while  her  bitter  tears  bedewed  her  pillow.  At  the  first  sound  made  by 
Dagobert,  as  he  knocked  against  the  glass,  the  poor  girl  started  with 
a  sudden  dread,  but  when  she  recognised  the  dear  and  well-known 
voice  of  the  old  soldier  calling  her  by  name,  she  sprang  to  her  feet, 
passed  her  hands  over  her  forehead,  as  though  to  assure  herself  she 
was  not  under  the  influence  of  some  delusive  dream,  then,  wrapped 
in  her  long  white  dressing-gown,  rushed  to  the  window,  uttering  cries 
of  joy. 


THE  EVE  OF  AN  IMPORTANT  DAY.  481 

But  all  at  once,  and  ere  she  could  open  the  window,  two  reports  of 
a  gun  were  heard,  accompanied  with  loud  and  repeated  cries  of — 

"  Guard  ! — guard  ! — thieves  ! — robbers  ! " 

Petrified  with  horror,  the  orphan  stood  motionless, — her  eyes  me- 
chanically fixed  on  the  window,  through  which,  by  the  moonlight,  she 
saw  a  confused  mass  of  men  struggling  in  deadly  combat,  while  the 
furious  barking  of  Kill-joy  almost  drowned  the  repeated  cries  of 
"  Guard  I — guard  !  —  thieves  ! — murder  ! ! ! " 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 


THE  EVE  OF  AN  IMPORTANT  DAY. 

ABOUT  two  hours  before  the  facts  we  have  just  detailed  had 
passed  in  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marie,  Rodin  and  the  Pere  d'Aigrigny 
were  together  in  the  little  room  in  which  we  have  before  found  them, 
in  the  Rue  Milieu  des  Ursins.  Since  the  revolution  of  July,  Pere 
d'Aigrigny  had  thought  it  fit  to  remove  suddenly  into  this  temporary 
abode  the  secret  archives  and  correspondence  of  his  Order, — a  prudent 
precaution,  for  he  had  to  fear  that  the  reverend  fathers  would  be 
expelled  by  the  state  from  the  magnificent  establishments  with  which 
the  restoration  had  liberally  gratified  them.* 

Rodin,  still  clad  meanly,  and  always  shabby  and  dirty,  was  writing 
quietly  at  his  desk,  faithful  to  his  humble  character  of  secretary,  which 

*  Tins  fear  was  vain :  for  we  find  in  the  "  Constitutionnel"  of  the  1st  of  February, 
1832  (twelve  years  ago),  this  : — 

"  When,  in  IB'22,  M.  cle  Corbiere  unhesitatingly  destroyed  the  brilliant  normal 
school  which,  after  a  few  years  existence,  has  created,  or  developed,  so  many  and 
various  talents,  it  was  decided  that,  iu  order  to  make  compensation,  the  Hotel  de  la 
Hue  des  Postes,  in  which  it  was  situated,  should  be  purchased,  and  given  to  the 
congregation  of  the  Sainte- Esprit.  The  minister  of  the  marine  provided  the  funds  for 
this  purchase,  and  the  residence  was  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  society  which  then 
reigned  in  France.  Since  that  period  it  has  occupied  this  abode  peaceably,  which 
had  become  a  sort  of  hotel  in  which  Jesuitism  vegetated,  and  petted  its  numerous 
allies,  who  came  from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  be  refreshed  by  Pure  Ronsin. 
Things  were  so  when  the  revolution  of  July  arrived,  which  appeared  as  if  it  would 
disturb  the  congregation  of  this  locality.  Who  would  believe  it  ?  It  was  not  so  : 
the  allowance  was  stopped,  but  the  Jesuits  were  left  in  possession  of  the  Hotel  de  la 
Rue  des  Postes;  and  on  the  31st  of  January,  1832,  the  men  of  the  Sacrf-Caur  sire  fed 
at  the  eipeme  of  tht  state,  and  during  this  time  the  normal  school  has  no  place  of 
shelter,  but,  unorganised,  occupies  a  dirty  hole  in  a  narrow  corner  of  the  college 
of  Louis  le  Grand." 

We  read  this  in  the  "  Constitutionnel"  of  1832  concerning  the  HAtel  des  Postes. 
We  are  not  aware  what  sort  of  transactions  have  bien  gotrig  on  since  this  period, 
31  i  i 


482  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

concealed,  as  we  have  seen,  a  much  more  important  function,  that  of 
socius  ;  a  function  which,  according  to  the  constitutions  of  the  Order, 
consists  in  never  leaving  the  superior,  in  watching  and  spying  over 

between  the  reverend  peres  and  the  government,  but  we  find  in  a  public  article, 
recently  published  by  a  journal  in  the  organisation  of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  that  the 
Hotel  de  la  Rue  des  Posies  forms  part  of  the  landed  property  of  the  congregation. 
Let  us  quote  a  few  fragments  of  the  article  in  question  : — 

"  This  is  a  list  of  the  property  which  is  known  as  belonging  to  the  Society  of 
Jesus, — 

Francs. 

The  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Postes  worth,  perhaps,   500,000 

That  in  the  Rue  de  Sevre 300,000 

An  estate  two  leagues  from  Paris 150,000 

House  and  church  at  Bourges 100,000 

N6tre  Dame  de  Vesse,  a  gift  made  in  1813    60,000 

Saint  Acheul,  a  novitiate  house    400,000 

Nantes,  about 100,000 

Quimper,  about , 40,000 

Laval  house  and  church     150,000 

Rennes  House    20,000 

Vannes  House     40,000 

Metz  House    40,000 

Strasbourg  House 60,000 

Rouen  House 15,000 

"  These  various  properties  amount  to  nearly  2,000,000  francs  (80,000*.).  Teaching 
is,  besides,  a  very  important  source  of  revenue  to  the  Jesuits.  The  college  of  Brugelette 
alone  produces  200,000  francs  (8000/.).  The  two  provinces  of  France  (the  general 
of  the  Jesuits  at  Rome  has  divided  France  into  two  conscriptions,  that  of  Lyons  and 
that  of  Paris)  possess,  besides,  a  funded  property  and  in  shares  in  the  mines  of 
Austria,  more  than  200,000  francs  a-year  (8000J.).  Every  year  the  propagation  of 
the  faith  supplies,  at  least,  from  40,000  to  50,000  francs  (2000/.) ;  the  preachers 
collect  after  their  sermons  150,000  francs  (6000/.) ;  alms  for  the  "good  work" 
bring  in  an  equal  amount ;  and  thus  they  haye  a  revenue  of,  at  least,  540,000  francs 
(21,000/.),  and  to  this  income  we  must  add  the  produce  of  the  sale  of  works  of  the 
society,  and  the  profit  which  is  made  by  a  trade  in  engraving-s. 

"  Each  plate  brings  in,  drawing  and  engraving  included,  600  francs  (241.),  and 
they  may  be  made  to  print  10,000  copies;  which  cost,  for  paper  and  working,  40 
francs  per  1000.  They  pay  the  responsible  editor  250  francs,  and  thus  on  each  1000 
is  a  net  profit  of  210  francs.  Is  not  this  a  profitable  labour  1  and  we  may  suppose 
how  it  extends.  The  fathers  themselves  travel  for  the  business,  and  they  could  not 
have  more  zealous  and  indefatigable  agents.  They  are  always  well  requited,  and 
will  not  take  a  refusal.  The  editor,  of  course,  is  one  of  them.  The  first  they 

selected  for  this  post  of  intermediary  was  the  socius  of  the  procureur,  N.  V.  J ;  this 

sociin  had  some  property  of  his  own,  but  they  were  obliged  to  make  him  advances  for 
the  outlay  at  starting.  AVhen  they  saw  the  prosperity  of  the  undertaking  assured, 
they  suddenly  called  in  their  advances.  'The  editor  was  unable  at  the  moment 
to  make  them  good,  as  they  well  knew,  so  they  put  a  rich  successor  in  his  place, 
with  whom  they  could  treat  on  more  advantageous  conditions,  and  without  remorse 
they  ruined  their  socius  by  destroying  the  position  for  whose  permanence  they  had 
given  him  a  moral  guarantee." 


THE  BYE  OF  AN  IMPORTANT  DAY.  483 

his  least  movements,  his  lightest  impressions,  and  to  send  a  full  account 
of  all  to  Rome. 

In  spite  of  his  habitual  passiveness,  Rodin  appeared  considerably 
disturbed  and  preoccupied,  and  replied  in  a  manner  much  more  curt 
than  usual  to  the  orders  or  questions  of  Pure  d'Aigrigny,  who  came 
in  at  this  moment. 

"Has  anything  new  occurred  since  I  was  away?"  he  inquired  of 
Rodin.  "  Have  the  reports  been  favourable  as  they  arrived?" 

"  Very  favourable." 

"  Read  them  to  me." 

"  Before  I  do  so  I  must  inform  your  reverence,"  said  Rodin,  "  that 
Morok  has  been  here  these  two  days." 

"  Morok  !"  said  the  Abbe  d'Aigrigny,  with  surprise  ;  "  I  thought 
that  when  he  left  Germany  and  Switzerland,  he  received  his  orders 
from  Fribourg  to  go  towards  the  south.  At  Nismes,  or  Avignon,  he 
might  have  been  an  useful  auxiliary  at  tins  moment,  for  the  Protestants 
are  busy,  and  there  is  fear  of  a  reaction  against  the  Catholics." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Rodin,  "  if  Morok  has  any  particular 
motives  for  changing  his  route,  but  his  apparent  reasons,  he  has  told 
me,  are  that  he  is  going  to  give  some  representations  here." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  A  dramatic  agent  has  engaged  him  and  his  menagerie,  whilst  he 
was  at  Lyons,  for  the  theatre  of  the  Porte-Saint-Martin,  on  very  high 
terms,  and,  he  added,  that  he  could  not  reject  such  an  offer." 

"  Well,  be  it  so  1 "  said  D'Aigrigny,  shrugging  his  shoulders ; 
"  but  by  the  spreading  of  his  little  books,  the  sale  of  chaplets  and 
engravings,  as  well  as  by  the  influence  which,  to  a  certain  extent,  he 
might  have  exercised  over  the  religious  and  ill-informed  population, 
like  those  in  the  south  and  in  Brittany,  he  might  have  rendered  ser- 
vices which  he  cannot  do  in  Paris." 

"  He  is  downstairs,  with  a  sort  of  giant  who  accompanies  him ; 
for,  as  an  old  servant  of  your  reverence,  Morok  was  in  hopes  of 
having  the  honour  to  kiss  your  hand  this  evening." 

"  Impossible — impossible  I  You  know  how  this  evening  is  occu- 
pied. Has  any  one  been  to  the  Rue  Saint  Francois  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  the  old  Jew  guardian  has  had  notice  from  the  notary. 
To-morrow,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  masons  will  pull  down 
the  walled-up  door,  and,  for  the  first  time  for  150  years,  the  house  will 
be  opened." 

Father  d'Aigrigny  was  for  a  moment  lost  in  thought.  He  then 
said  to  Rodin, — 

"  On  the  eve  of  so  decisive  a  moment,  nothing  must  bo  neglected 
—  every  thing  remembered.  Read  to  me  again  the  copy  of  the  note 
inserted  in  the  Archives  of  the  Society,  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  on 
the  subject  of  M.  de  Rennepont." 

The  secretary  took  a  memorandum  from  a  packet  of  documents, 
and  read  as  follows:  — 

"  This  day,  19th  February,  1682,  the  R.  P.  Provincial  Alexander 
Bourdon  si-nt  the  following  information  with  these  words  in  the 
margin, — 

"  '  Extremely  important  for  tlic  future.' 


484  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  We  have  learned  from  the  confession  of  a  dying  man,  whom  one 
of  our  Order  has  shrived,  a  very  secret  matter. 

"  M.  Marcus  de  Rennepont,  one  of  the  most  active  and  turbulent 
leaders  of  the  reformed  religion,  and  one  of  the  bitterest  enemies  to  our 
holy  society,  had  apparently  returned  to  the  bosom  of  our  maternal 
church,  with  the  sole  and  entire  purpose  of  saving  his  property,  threat- 
ened with  confiscation,  in  consequence  of  his  irreligious  and  damnable 
behaviour.  Proofs  having  been  furnished  by  different  persons  of  our 
society,  that  the  conversion  of  the  Sieur  de  Rennepont  was  not  sincere, 
but  only  a  mask  for  a  sacrilegious  design,  the  property  of  the  said  sieur, 
henceforward  considered  as  lapsed,  has,  on  this  account,  been  con- 
fiscated by  H.  M.  our  King  Louis  XIV.,  and  the  said  Sieur  de  Renne- 
pont condemned  to  the  galleys  for  life,*  whence  he  only  escaped  by  a 
voluntary  death,  after  which  abominable  crime,  he  was  drawn  on  a 
hurdle,  and  his  body  given  to  the  dogs  of  the  highways. 

"  This  premised,  we  come  to  the  secret  disclosed,  so  excessively 
important  to  the  interests  of  our  society. 

"  H.  M.  Louis  XIV.,  in  his  paternal  and  Catholic  bounty  for  the 
church,  and  especially  for  our  Order,  had  awarded  to  us  the  profit  of 
this  confiscation,  in  gratitude  for  our  having  exposed  the  Sieur  de  Reunc- 
pont  as  a  relapsed  Protestant,  infamous  and  sacrilegious. 

"  We  have  learned  CERTAINLY,  that  from  this  confiscation,  and 
consequently  from  our  society,  have  been  excluded  a  house,  situated  in 
Paris,  No.  3  Rue  Saint  Francois,  and  a  sum  of  50,000  crowns  in  gold. 
The  house  was  made  over  before  the  confiscation,  by  means  of  a  pre- 
tended sale  to  a  friend  of  the  Sieur  de  Rennepont,  who,  being  a  very 
good  Catholic,  we  cannot,  most  unfortunately,  punish  him. 

"  This  house,  through  the  guilty  commission  of  this  fraud,  which  it 
is  impossible  to  expose,  has  been  walled  up,  and  is  not  to  be  opened 
for  a  century  and  a  half,  according  to  the  will  and  last  wishes  of  the 
Sieur  de  Rennepont.  As  to  the  50,000  crowns  in  gold,  they  were 
placed  in  hands  unfortunately  unknown  up  to  this  period,  in  order  to 
be  invested  and  to  accumulate  for  150  years,  then  to  be  divided  at  the 
expiration  of  150  years  amongst  the  then  existing  descendants  of  the 
Sieur  de  Rennepont,  a  sum  which,  through  such  accumulations,  must 
become  enormous,  and  will  necessarily  attain  an  amount  of  from 
40,000,000  to  50,000,000  of  livres  tournois  (2,000,000/.  sterling). 

"  From  motives  as  yet  unknown,  but  which  he  has  detailed  in  a  will, 
the  Sieur  de  Rennepont  has  concealed  from  his  family — whom  the  edicts 
against  the  Protestants  have  drawn  from  France  and  exiled  to  Europe 
— where  he  has  placed  the  50,000  crowns,  impressing  only  on  the 
parents  to  perpetuate  in  their  line,  from  generation  to  generation,  the 
recommendation  to  the  last  survivor  to  be  in  Paris  150  years  hence,  at 
the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  ON  THE  13TH  FEBRUARY,  1832;  and  that  this 
request  might  not  be  forgotten,  he  has  charged  a  man,  whose  condition 
is  unknown,  but  whose  description  is  given,  to  have  made  certain 

*  Louis  XIV.,  the  great  Icing,  punished  with  the  galleys  for  life  those  Protestants 
who,  after  having  often  been  forcibly  converted,  returned  to  their  original  creed.  As 
to  the  Protestants  who  remained  in  France,  in  spite  of  the  rigour  of  the  edicts,  they 
were  deprived  of  sepulture,  drawn  on  a  hurdle,  and  then  thrown  to  the  dogs. 


THE  EVE  OF  AN  IMPORTANT  DAY.  485 

bronze  medals,  on  which  this  desire  and  this  date  are  engraven,  and  to 
transmit  one  to  each  person  of  his  family;  a  precaution  the  more  neces- 
sary as  from  another  reason,  equally  unknown,  but  which  it  is  presumed 
the  Will  also  explains,  the  heirs  are  commanded  to  present  themselves 
on  the  day  fixed,  before  noon,  in  person,  and  not  by  deputy,  in  which 
case  they  will  be  excluded  from  any  participation. 

"  The  unknown  man  who  went  to  distribute  these  medals  to  the 
members  of  the  Rennepont  family  is  from  thirty  to  thirty-six  years  of 
age,  of  a  bold,  but  sorrowful  demeanour,  and  tall ;  he  has  black  eye- 
brows, thick,  and  singularly  marked.  He  is  called  Joseph  ;  and  it  is 
suspected  very  strongly  that  he  is  an  active  and  dangerous  emissary  of 
those  reformed  and  republican  madmen  of  the  Seven  United  Provinces. 

"  It  appears  from  the  foregoing,  that  this  sum,  confided  by  this 
heretic  to  an  unknown  hand  in  a  surreptitious  manner,  has  escaped  the 
confiscation  which  was  awarded  to  us  by  our  well-beloved  king,  and  it 
is  an  immense  injury,  a  monstrous  loss,  which  we  must  seek  to  recover, 
if  not  at  this  time,  yet  in  a  time  to  come. 

"  Our  society  being  (to  the  greater  glory  of  God  and  our  Holy 
Father)  imperishable,  it  will  be  easy — thanks  to  the  relations  we  have 
established  all  over  the  earth  by  means  of  missions  and  other  founda- 
tions— to  follow,  from  the  present  time,  the  filiation  of  this  family  llenne- 
pont,  from  generation  to  generation,  never  to  lose  sight  of  it,  so  that  in 
150  years,  at  the  moment  when  the  division  of  this  immense  accumu- 
lated fortune  takes  place,  our  company  may  enter  into  the  property 
which  has  been  so  treacherously  abstracted  from  them,  and  resume  it 
perjas  nut  tic  fas,  by  any  means  whatsoever,  even  by  stratagem  or  by 
violence,  our  company  not  being  compelled  to  act  otherwise  against  the 
future  withholders  of  our  rights,  so  maliciously  taken  from  us  by  this 
infamous  and  sacrilegious  heretic,  for  which  end  it  is  lawful  to  defend, 
preserve,  and  recover  our  property  by  all  means  which  the  law  has 
placed  in  our  hands. 

"  Until  this  restitution  be  completed,  this  Rennepont  family  shall 
be  denounced  and  outcast,  like  the  accursed  race  of  the  Cain-like 
heretic,  and  it  shall  be  good  to  keep  rigid  and  unrelenting  watch 
over  it. 

"  For  this  end  it  will  be  requisite  every  year,  from  this  day  forth, 
that  there  be  established  a  sort  of  inquiry  in  the  successive  positions  of 
the  members  of  this  family." 

Rodin  stopped  here,  and  said  to  Pere  d'Aigrigny, — 

"  Here  follow  the  accounts  sent  in,  year  by  year,  of  the  position 
of  this  family  from  1682  until  this  time.  It  is  useless  to  read  this  to 
your  reverence." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  the  Abb6  d'Aigrigny.  "  This  note  quite  clearly 
states  the  main  facts."  Then,  after  a  moment's  silence,  he  added,  with 
an  expression  of  triumphant  pride,  "  How  great  is  the  power  of  the 
association  founded  on  tradition  and  on  perpetuity  !  Thanks  to  this 
note  inserted  in  our  Archives  for  a  century  and  a  half,  this  family  has 
been  watched  from  generation  to  generation  ;  our  Order  has  always  had 
its  eyes  fixed  on  them,  following  over  every  part  of  the  globe  whither- 
soever exile  had  spread  them.  At  length,  to-morrow  we  enter  into 
this  vast  receipt,  so  small  at  first,  but  which  150  years  have  transformed. 


488  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

into  a  vast  fortune.     Yes,  we  shall  succeed ;  for  I  have  foreseen  every 
contingency.     Something,  however,  occupies  my  mind." 

"  What  ?  "  inquired  Ilodin. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  investigations  which  have  hitherto  been 
made  in  vain  to  obtain  further  particulars  from  the  guardian  of  the 
house  in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois.  Has  the  attempt  been  once  more 
made  according  to  my  orders  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  has!" 

"Well?" 

"  This  time,  as  well  as  all  the  others,  the  old  Jew  has  been  im- 
penetrable, he  is,  moreover,  almost  in  his  dotage,  and  his  wife  is  very 
little  better." 

"When  I  reflect,"  pursued  Pere  d'Aigrigny,  "that  for  a  century  and 
a  half  this  house  in  the  Rue  Saint  Fran9ois  has  been  walled  and  shut 
up,  its  ward  kept  up  from  generation  to  generation  in  this  family  of 
Samuels,  I  cannot  believe  they  are  as  ignorant  as  they  profess  as  to 
who  are  the  successive  depositaries  of  the  funds  whose  accumulation 
has  become  so  immense  ! " 

"  You  have  seen,"  said  Rodin,  "  by  the  notes  in  the  ledger  on  this 
matter,  that  the  order  has  been  most  carefully  kept  up  since  1682. 
At  different  periods  attempts  have  been  made  to  obtain  some  inform- 
ation on  this  subject,  which  the  note  of  Pere  Bourdon  does  not  clear 
up.  But  this  race  of  guardian  Jews  has  remained  mute,  whence,  we 
may  presume,  that  they  know  nothing." 

"  Which  has  always  appeared  to  me  impossible,  for  the  grand- 
father of  all  these  Samuels  was  present  at  the  closing  of  the  house  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  since.  '  He  was,'  says  the  ledger,  *  the  man 
of  business  or  domestic  of  M.  de  Rennepont ;'  and  it  is  impossible  but 
that  he  was  instructed  in  many  points  which  tradition  has,  doubtless, 
perpetuated  in  his  family." 

"  If  I  were  allowed  to  hazard  a  slight  remark,"  said  Rodin,  hum- 
bly. 

"Speak!" 

"  It  is  but  a  few  years  that  we  acquired  the  certain  knowledge  of  a 
confidence  of  the  confessional,  declaring  that  these  funds  existed,  and 
that  they  had  attained  such  an  enormous  figure." 

"  True !  and  that  called  the  attention  of  the  R.  F.  General  to  the 
affair." 

"We  know  that,  probably,  all  the  descendants  of  the  Rennepont 
family  are  ignorant  of  the  immense  value  of  this  inheritance." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Father  d'Aigrigny,  "  the  person  who  has  certified 
this  part  to  the  confessor  is  worthy  of  all  belief.  Lately,  he  received 
the  declaration,  but  in  spite  of  all  the  persuasions  of  his  director,  he 
refused  to  confess  in  whose  hands  the  funds  were  placed,  always  affirm- 
ing, that  they  could  not  be  placed  in  more  trustworthy  persons." 

"  Then,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Rodin,  "that  >ve  are  certain  of  that 
which  is  most  important  to  know." 

"  And  who  knows  if  the  holder  of  this  enormous  sum  will  present 
himself  to-morrow  in  spite  of  the  honesty  attributed  to  him  ?  In  spite 
of  myself,  the  nearer  the  moment  arrives,  the  more  my  anxiety  in- 
creases. Ah ! "  resumed  Pure  d'Aigrigny,  after  a  moment's  silence, 


THE  STRANGLER.  487 

"  what  immense  interests  are  at  stake,  and  how  incalculable  are  the 
the  consequences  of  success  !  At  least  all  1ms  been  done  that  could  be 
done." 

At  these  words,  which  Fere  d'Aigrigny  addressed  to  Rodin,  as  if 
he  had  expected  his  acquiescence,  the  socius  did  not  reply. 
The  abbe,  looking  at  him  with  surprise,  said  to  him, — 
"  Are  you  not  of  this  opinion  ?     Could  more  have  been  done  ? 
Have  we  not  gone  to  the  very  extremity  of  every  possible  limit  ?  " 
Rodin  bowed  respectfully,  but  remained  mute. 
"If  you  think  that  any  precaution  has  been  omitted,"  exclaimed 
D'Aigrigny,  with  a  sort  of  unquiet  impatience,  "  say  so, — there  is  still 
time  !  Once  more,  do  you  think  that  all  it  was  possible  to  do  has  been 
done?     All   the   descendants   are   put   out   of  the  way,   and   when 
Gabriel  presents  himself  to-morrow  at  the  Rue  Saint  Fnu^ois,  will 
he  not  be  the  sole  representative  of  the  family,  and,  consequently,  the 
sole  possessor  of  this  immense  fortune  ?     But  after  his  renunciation  of 
our  statutes,  it  is  not  he,  but  our  Order,  who  will  acquire  this  wealth. 
Could  one  act  better,  or  otherwise  ?  say  frankly." 

"  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  utter  an  opinion  on  the  subject,"  re- 
plied Rodin,  humbly;  and  again  bowing,  "The  good  or  bad  success 
will  reply  to  your  reverence." 

The  Pere  d'Aigrigny  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  reproached  him- 
self for  having  asked  any  opinion  of  this  writing  machine,  who  served 
him  as  secretary,  and  who  had,  as  he  declared,  but  three  qualities,  of 
memory,  discretion,  and  punctuality. 


CHAPTER   LXIX. 


THE  STRANGLER. 

AFTER  a  moment's  silence,  D'Aigrigny  said, — 

"  Read  me  this  day's  reports  touching  the   present  situation  of 
each  of  the  persons  concerned  in  the  affair  of  to-morrow." 

"Here  is  the  account  up  to  this  evening  which  has  just  been 
brought." 

"  Proceed." 

Rodin  at  once  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Jacques  Rennepont,  called  Couche-tout-Nu,  has  been  SEEN  con- 
fined in  the  debtor's  prison  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening." 

"  Then  ho  will  give  us  no  trouble  to-morro\v ;  after  which — but 
go  on." 

"  The  superior  of  the  Convent  de  Sainte-Marie,  instructed  by  the 
Princess  de  Saint-Di/icr,  lias  placed  the  Mesdemoiselles  Rose  and 
Blanche  Simon,  under  still  closer  confinement;  this  evening,  at  nine 
o'clock,  they  were  carefully  locked  in  their  separate  cells,  and  armed 
guards  will  keep  watch  during  the  night  in  the  convent  garden." 


488  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  to  apprehend  in  that  quarter,  thanks  to 
the  precautions  taken,"  said  D'Aigrigny.  "  Continue." 

"  Doctor  Balcinicr,  acting  also  by  the  instructions  of  the  Princess 
de  Saint-Dizier,  still  observes  the  most  rigorous  surveillance  over 
Mademoiselle  de  Cardoville ;  at  a  quarter  to  nine  o'clock  the  door  of 
the  pavilion  she  occupies  was  securely  locked  and  bolted." 

"  No  need  of  inquietude  there,  at  least." 

"  As  for  M.  Hardy,"  resumed  Hodin,  "  I  have  to-day  received  a 
note  from  M.  de  Bressac,  his  intimate  friend,  to  whose  valuable  services 
we  are  indebted  for  getting  M.  Hardy  out  of  the  way  at  this  particu- 
lar juncture.  The  letter  contains  a  note  addressed  by  M.  Hardy  to 
some  person  in  whom  he  places  great  confidence.  M.  de  Bressac  has, 
however,  thought  it  best  to  intercept  this  letter,  and  to  send  it  to  us  as 
another  proof  of  the  successful  exertions  he  has  made  to  serve  us,  and 
which,  he  hopes,  we  shall  bear  in  mind,  for  he  adds,  that  in  order  to 
serve  us  he  has  treacherously  betrayed  his  earliest  and  best  friend,  by 
playing  on  his  feelings,  and  inventing  a  false  and  fictitious  case  of  dis- 
tress. M.  de  Bressac  doubts  not  but  that  in  consideration  of  his  valu- 
able services,  you  will  give  him  up  the  papers  which  place  him  so 
absolutely  in  our  power,  since  their  contents  are  calculated  to  bring 
irreparable  ruin  on  the  woman  he  passionately  adores  with  an  adulter- 
ous love.  He  still  further  urges  that  we  should  pity  the  fearful  pre- 
dicament in  which  he  was  placed  when  he  had  to  choose  between 
betraying  his  bosom  friend,  or  seeing  the  object  of  his  fondest  affec- 
tions disgraced  and  ruined  for  ever." 

"  These  adulterous  waitings  deserve  no  pity,"  answered  D'Aigrigny, 
disdainfully  ;  "  however,  we  will  think  it  over :  M.  de  Bressac  may 
still  be  useful  to  us.  Now,  then,  let  me  see  the  letter  of  M.  Hardy, 
this  impious  and  republican  manufacturer,  the  right  worthy  descend- 
ant of  the  accursed  race  from  which  he  is  descended,  this  troublesome 
individual  it  cost  us  so  much  trouble  to  get  rid  of." 

"  Here  is  the  letter  in  question,"  said  Rodin.  "To-morrow,  we  will 
send  it  on  to  the  person  for  whom  it  is  intended."  He  then  read  as 
follows : — 

"  Toulouse,  Feb.  10. 

"At  length,  my  dear  sir,  I  find  a  few  minutes  leisure  to  address 
you,  and  to  explain  the  cause  of  my  abrupt  departure,  which,  if  it  did 
not  excite  your  apprehensions  that  something  unfortunate  had  hap- 
pened to  me,  must,  at  least,  have  greatly  surprised  you.  I  have,  also, 
to  ask  a  favour  at  your  hands;  and  the  facts  are  briefly  these: — I 
have  often  spoken  to  you  of  Felix  de  Bressac,  my  earliest  friend, 
although  a  much  younger  person  than  myself,  yet,  spite  of  this  differ- 
ence in  our  years,  our  friendship  has  ever  been  warm  and  sincere ;  and 
we  have  mutually  received  sufficient  proofs  of  regard  to  warrant  the  most 
unlimited  confidence  in  each  other.  He  was  to  me  as  a  brother  ;  and 
you  well  know  all  the  signification  I  attach  to  those  words.  A  few 
days  ago  he  wrote  me  from  Toulouse,  where  he  had  gone  to  pass  some 
time,  in  the  following  terms : — 

"  '  If  you  love  me,  hasten  to  me  with  all  speed.  I  have  deep  and 
urgent  need  of  you.  Set  out  instantly.  Your  sympathy  and  consoling 


THE  StRANGLER.  489 

worth  may  perhaps  inspire  me  with  courage  to  lire.  Should  you 
arrive  too  late,  then  pardon  »ie,  and  think  sometimes  of  one  who  was 
and  ever  will  be  your  faithful  and  attached  friend.1 

"  You  can  imagine  the  grief  and  alarm  with  which  I  perused  this 
epistle.  I  sent  instantly  for  post-horses.  My  managing  overseer  in 
my  manufactory,  an  old  and  worthy  man,  whom  I  both  esteem  and 
respect,  and  who  is  moreover  the  father  of  General  Simon,  finding  I 
was  about  to  go  to  the  south,  begged  of  me  to  take  him  with  me.  It 
was,  therefore,  arranged  he  should  accompany  me,  and  remain  for  a 
few  days  in  the  department  of  La  Creuse,  as  he  was  desirous  of  inspect- 
ing some  improvements  recently  introduced  in  manufactures  similar  to 
our  own.  I  agreed  the  more  willingly  to  allow  him  to  depart  with 
me,  as  I  could  then  relieve  my  overcharged  heart  by  discoursing  with 
him  on  the  mysterious  and  painful  intelligence  contained  in  the  letter  of 
de  Bressac. 

"  On  my  arrival  at  Toulouse,  I  found  that  he  had  quitted  that 
city  the  evening  previously,  taking  his  weapons  with  him,  and  evi- 
dently suffering  from  the  most  violent  despair.  At  first  I  could  not 
obtain  the  least  indication  of  the  route  he  had  taken,  but  at  length, 
after  infinite  trouble,  I  found  traces  of  him,  and,  after  the  utmost  dif- 
ficulty, succeeded  in  discovering  him  in  a  wretched,  village.  Never  did 
I  see  such  fearful  despair  as  that  which  possessed  him.  There  was 
nothing  in  it  of  a  violent  character,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  an  utter 
rejection  of  all  hope,  a  perfect  despondency  joined  to  a  gloomy,  sullen 
silence ;  at  first,  instead  of  welcoming  me,  he  almost  repulsed  me,  and 
inquired  wherefore  I  had  come.  Then  by  degrees,  as  I  soothed  and 
calmed  his  agitated  mind,  he  seemed  to  recover  himself,  and  at  length 
threw  himself  into  my  arms,  weeping  bitterly  as  he  did  so.  By  his 
side  were  placed  loaded  pistols.  Had  I  been  one  day  later,  who  can 
tell  what  might  have  happened  ?  I  cannot  tell  you  the  cause  of  all  this 
overwhelming  grief,  the  secret  is  not  mine  to  divulge ;  suffice  it,  that 
I  no  longer  wondered  at  his  deep  anguish,  his  hopeless  misery.  All  I 
can  now  say  is,  that  his  cure  will  be  long  and  difficult.  He  must  be 
tenderly  watched,  comforted,  and  consoled.  The  hand  of  friendship 
must  pour  oil  into  the  wounds  of  his  poor  lacerated  mind,  and  whisper 
peace  to  his  half-distracted  brain.  None  but  a  faithful  and  attached 
friend  can  perform  this  delicate  and  difficult  task.  Yet  I  am  not 
without  hopes  of  restoring  my  friend  to  health,  both  of  body  and  mind. 
I  have  persuaded  him  to  uudertake  a  journey  of  some  length,  and  to 
seek  diversion  and  recreation  from  travelling.  To-morrow  we  start  for 
Nice.  Should  he  find  benefit  from  the  excursion,  we  can  easily  prq- 
long  it,  for  I  have  nothing  to  call  me  to  Paris  imperatively  before  the 
end  of  March. 

"  As  for  the  favour  I  have  to  ask  of  you,  it  is  quite  optional  with 
yourself  as  to  whether  you  comply  or  not;  but  this  is  it: — 

"  It  appears,  by  some  papers  in  the  possession  of  my  mother's 
family,  that  I  have  a  powerful  interest  in  being  in  Paris  on  the  13th 
February,  and  to  present  myself  at  No.  3  Rue  Saint  Francois.  I 
made  some  inquiries  about  this ;  but  all  I  could  learn  was,  that  the 
house  indicated,  and  which  was  of  most  antique  appearance,  had  been 
shut  up  for  the  last  150  years  by  some  unaccountable  whim  of  one  of 


490  THE  WANDERING  JEW. 

my  maternal  ancestors,  and  that  it  was  to  be  opened  on  the  13th  of 
this  month  in  the  presence  of  all  the  co-heirs  or  heiresses,  if  indeed 
there  be  any.  Being  unable  myself  to  be  on  the  spot,  I  have  written 
to  my  overseer,  a  man  on  whom  I  can  safely  rely,  and  who,  I  repeat, 
is  father  to  General  Simon,  begging  of  him  to  leave  La  Creusc  where 
he  was  staying,  and  depart  instantly  for  Paris,  in  order  to  be  present  at 
the  old  house.  Not  as  my  representative,  as  that  would  be  useless,  but 
merely  for  the  curiosity  of  the  thing,  and  that  he  might  be  enabled  to 
give  me  a  full  account  of  all  that  transpired.  In  short,  to  gratify  my 
childish  desire  to  know  what  this  romantic  scheme  of  my  old  pro- 
genitor would  end  in. 

"  As  it  is  just  probable  my  overseer  may  not  arrive  in  time,  I 
should  esteem  it  a  great  favour  if  you  would  inquire  at  Plessy,  whether 
he  has  returned  or  not ;  and  in  the  event  of  the  latter  being  the  case, 
may  I  ask  you  to  go  instead  of  him  to  the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  and 
watch  the  curious  scene  the  opening  of  a  house  so  long  shut  up  must 
necessarily  give  rise  to  ? 

"  Although  I  am  far  from  thinking  I  have  given  up  much  in  ab- 
staining from  being  in  Paris  on  the  day  indicated  for  developing  this 
strange  mystery;  yet  had  I  even  known  the  sacrifice  to  be  ever  so 
great,  I  should  unhesitatingly  have  made  it,  from  a  feeling  of  how 
necessary  were  my  constant  cares  and  attentions  to  restore  to  happi- 
ness the  man  I  love  and  value  as  a  brother. 

"  Let  me,  then,  again  express  a  hope  that  you  will  be  present  in 
the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  and  that  you  add  to  the  favour  that  of 
writing  to  me  (Poste  Restaute)  at  Nice,  the  result  of  your  curious 
visit  thither. 

"  Yours,  &c. 

"  FRANCIS  HARDY." 

"  Although  the  presence  of  this  father  of  General  Simon's  could 
not  in  any  way  interfere  with  our  plans,"  observed  D'Aigrigny,  "  I 
think  it  would  be  desirable  he  should  not  be  present.  However,  it  is 
immaterial,  since  M.  Hardy  himself  is  safely  at  a  distance." 

"  We  have  now  only  to  get  rid  of  the  young  Indian.  And  as  for 
him,"  continued  the  marquis,  with  a  thoughtful  air,  "  it  was  wisely 
done  to  allow  M.  Norval  to  depart  bearing  the  presents  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Cardoville  to  the  prince,  in  that  manner,  the  surgeon, 
who  accompanied  him,  and  who  was  judiciously  selected  by  Dr.  Ba- 
leinier,  will  escape  all  suspicion  of  being  in  our  interests." 

"  Entirely  so,"  replied  Rodin  ;  "  nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory 
than  his  letter  of  yesterday." 

"  Thus,  then,  there  is  nothing  to  dread  from  the  appearance  of  this 
Indian  prince,"  said  D'Aigriguy,  "  every  thing  works  as  we  would 
have  it." 

"  As  regards  Gabriel,"  continued  Rodin,  "  he  has  written  again 
this  morning,  urgently  pressing  for  the  interview  with  your  reverence 
he  has  been  trying  to  obtain  for  the  last  three  days.  He  seems  to 
suffer  deeply  from  the  punishment  imposed  on  him,  of  confining  him 
to  the  house  for  the  last  five  days." 

"  To-morrow,  then,  when  he  is  conducted  to  the  Rue  Saiut  Fran- 
cois he  shall  be  heard." 


THE  STRANGLER.  491 

"  Now,  then,"  added  D'Aigrigny,  with  an  air  of  triumphant 
exultation,  "  we  have  placed  all  the  descendants  of  the  family,  whose 
presence  would  ruin  our  projects,  in  such  circumstances  as  to  render 
it  perfectly  impossible  for  them  to  be  present  before  twelve  o'clock 
to-morrow  in  the  Rue  Saint  Francois,  whilst  Gabriel  alone  will  be 
there.  Now,  then,  we  hold  success  within  our  grasp." 

D'Aigrigny  was  prevented  from  proceeding  farther  by  some  one 
tapping  twice  gently  against  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  he. 

An  old  servant,  dressed  in  black,  appeared,  saying, — 

"  There  is  a  person  below,  desiring  to  speak  with  3VI.  Rodin  upon 
urgent  business." 

"  What  is  his  name?"  inquired  D'Aigrigny. 

"  lie  refused  to  tell  me ;  but  he  bade  me  say,  he  came  from 
M.  Josue,  a  merchant  in  the  island  of  Java." 

D'Aigrigny  and  Rodin  exchanged  a  look  of  extreme  surprise  not 
unmingled  with  fear. 

"  See  who  this  man  can  be,"  said  D'Aigrigny  to  Rodin,  unable  any 
longer  to  conceal  or  endure  his  uneasiness,  "  and  come  and  let  me 
know." 

Then  speaking  to  the  servant,  who  immediately  quitted  the  room, 
he  said, — 

"  Shew  him  in." 

And  with  these  words  D'Aigrigny  disappeared  by  a  side-door,  after 
exchanging  significant  signs  with  Rodin.  The  next  minute  after, 
Faringhae,  ex-chief  of  the  sect  of  Stranglers,  appeared  before  Rodin, 
who  instantly  recollected  having  seen  him  in  the  Chateau  de  Cardoville. 
The  wily  socius  started,  but  affected  to  have  no  knowledge  of  the 
speaker  who  stood  before  him. 

Still  bending  over  his  desk  and  feigning  not  to  perceive  Faringhea, 
he  hastily  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  paper  lying  before  him. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  servant,  astonished  at  the  continued  silence  of 
Rodin,  "  this  is  the  person  I  mentioned  as  desirous  of  seeing  you." 

Rodin  folded  the  paper  he  had  so  hastily  written,  and  said  to  the 
servant, — 

"  Carry  this  to  its  address,  and  they  will  send  the  answer." 

The  servant  bowed  and  retired.  Then  Rodin,  without  rising,  fixed 
his  small  reptile  eyes  on  Faringhea,  and  said  to  him,  in  a  courteous 
tone, — 

"  May  I  inquire  to  whom  I  have  the  honour  of  speaking  ?  " 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

MOVES  AND  BARCLAY,  CASTLE  STREET, 
LEICESTER  SQUARE. 


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